A Song of Earth and Fire
by Tonight's The Night
Summary: Two centuries after the end of Sozin's War, a waterbending princess leaves her home to escape an arranged marriage. On her journey, she encounters tragedy, danger, and intrigue. Meanwhile, a Ba Sing Se street rat struggles to fulfill his destiny as the Avatar despite repeated failures to learn his element, and the Earth Kingdom attacks the Fire Nation.
1. The Peace Celebration

_Author's Note_

_Welcome, everyone. It's great to have you reading this story. There are just a couple things I have to cover before we get started. _

_The 1__st__: Since this takes place two centuries after Aang's triumph against the Fire Lord, all living characters will be my own creations. Additionally, the time since the original series means that the world itself has advanced. Technology is more refined, cultural diffusion has occurred between the nations, and certain worldviews have changed since Aang defeated the Fire Lord._

_The 2__nd__: Since Legend of Korra hasn't come out at the time I'm starting this, parts of this story may violate canon to be established at a later date. I apologize for any inconsistencies that come up after the new series airs, but as I'm only working with what I know from Avatar: The Last Airbender, the only references to the show I'll make will be in relation to the original series until I can get more information from Legend of Korra._

* * *

><p>Chapter One<p>

" 'And so, body aglow with the twin energies of good and evil, Avatar Aang overcame the usurper and brought a new age of peace to the four nations.'"

The sound of hundreds of pages slamming together startled Meira out of her reverie; her head snapped up.

"Now, can anyone tell me what major event in history this quote concerns?" Professor Parka asked, a hopeful smile plastered on his liver-spotted face.

A tense silence fell over the fourteen students listening to the lecture. All were girls, all natives of the Northern Water Tribe, with the blue and gray eyes that were common among their people. All came from prominent families within their tribe.

Someone had to respond; the answer was so obvious. The candles in the corner said it was three o' clock, but the professor wouldn't let them go if no one answered the question.

Still, no one spoke, either out of ignorance for the topic, or out of the crippling shyness of uncertainty. The silence seemed almost like a protest against another minute of class.

"Oh, come now, surely _one _of you must know the answer. It only happened two hundred years ago. How about you, Lady Meira?"

She glanced up from her notes, repressing a groan. It was bad enough everyone looked to her for guidance. Giving answers in class pained her to an absurd extent. "It's in reference to the final battle of Sozin's War, when Avatar Aang vanquished Fire Lord Ozai during the comet by removing his firebending."

"Very good. If only all my students were so knowledgeable."

_Suck up, _she thought, just as three flashes from the candle announced the end of class. Grateful for the reprieve, she rose to her feet and picked up her books.

"I expect you all to look into the war before class next week," Professor Parka said. "It's our longest unit."

Meira slid across the floor, graceful over the ice from a lifetime of practice, and skidded into the frigid air outside. The wind bit at her face, as if often did, and she turned away, toward the practice fields. Her sister, sixteen years of age and in her last semester of the required formal education, waved her arms around, the movements similar to the flowing patterns of Classic Northern Waterbending. Instead of moving water, though, puffs of flames flew from her fingertips. Meira smiled and brought a block of ice up from the thick frozen sheet to sit on.

Zelda continued to practice her firebending, an expression of total focus embedded on her face. Her features were distinctly Fire Nation; their mother had married into the Northern Water Tribe to forge a political alliance and encourage goodwill between the previously warring nations. Though their mother wasn't a firebender herself, she'd passed on the gene to her youngest daughter. One of the few firebenders in the Northern Water Tribe, sixteen-year-old Zelda was unskilled in her bending art and eager for their trip to the Fire Nation this summer.

As Meira observed the slight girl, she noticed the water pooling at her sister's feet. The fireballs were heating the air around Zelda, and melting the ice under her just enough for a slick layer of water to form on top. As the girl shifted stances, her foot slid across the puddle and her body fell backwards onto the ice. Meira winced.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine." The firebender found her footing again and moved to a dry patch of ice. A fire glowed over her fingertips, a sharp contrast to the frosted expanses of snow. When she moved, the flame followed her hand, leaving a glowing trail that lingered several seconds before vanishing altogether. She turned, bringing the flame around her in an arc, much like classic waterbending. It followed her hands like a loyal pet, bending to her will and her movements.

A small pet, though. The flame was no larger at the base than the palm of her hand, and the fingers of flame that followed it were thin, like wisps of hair.

"Father said he wanted us back for the welcome feast before dark," Meira called. "We need to get ready."

The orange glow faded from her sister's fingertips, and the girl skated across the ice in her boots. A trail of water, barely visible, followed where she slid, as if her feet were warming the ice through her shoes.

"You should be wearing a thicker jacket than that," Meira said. "You'll freeze out here."

"I told you, I can keep myself warm just fine."

"And I told _you_, I don't care how good your firebending is, it reflects badly on me if I let you run around the North Pole without a jacket."

Zelda sighed, and started walking at her side. They passed by other benders practicing out in the training fields, mostly waterbenders. Meira saw one boy using Tropical Style, adapted from the Fire Nation in the years since the war. Another boy, older than the first, busied himself with Classic Northern Style, the kind of waterbending that had been practiced here for centuries. On the edge of the ice field, a girl pulled chunks of ice from the snow with Earth Kingdom Style, and smashed the frozen blocks into each other, making them crack and shatter on impact.

Beside her, Zelda sighed again.

"Don't worry," she said. "As soon as you graduate, we're going to travel down to the Fire Nation so you can learn how to bend just like them."

"Yeah, I guess so."

They kept walking. Zelda's feet slipped around on the ice as it melted beneath her. Given that normal body heat couldn't melt polar ice that fast, it wasn't hard to guess that she was melting the ice herself. Meira didn't mind; her sister couldn't make a circle of heat wide enough to encompass them both, anyway.

Dark fell early this time of year. When she went to school in the morning, the sky was still black. Now, only six hours since her trip to the school building, the sun had risen and set again. She stepped up the pace, not wanting to be late to the chief's feast when she was the star of the show.

"You okay, Meira?" her sister asked. "You look sick."

"I'm fine." The ice dome that housed all the major events in the north was in sight now. A curtain, made of silk imported from the Fire Nation, hung over the entrance, bearing the ocean and moon symbol of the water tribes. Standing in two lines were a dozen of her father's finest warriors, men skilled in the art of close combat. Even in times of peace, a military presence was necessary for formal ceremonies and personal protection. _Of course they'd be here, _she thought, her heart sinking as the gravity of the situation hit her. _No, it's just another ceremony. Nothing bad will come of this. _

"Ready for the party?" Zelda asked, too cheerful.

She pasted a smile on her face and nodded, afraid that her throat would close shut if she tried to speak.

"Princess Meira," each of the warriors said as she passed by, bowing their heads. She returned their greetings with several nods of her own, then slipped through the waterfall of silk, into to the party. The salty smell of sea prunes and the sharp scent of smoked fish filled her nose, and her mouth started to water. She swallowed, not wanting to drool in front of all her subjects.

"Meira, Zelda, welcome," the event planner greeted them. _Name, name, what's his name? _"Are you enjoying the party so far?"

The name came to her in a rush. "I am, Master Aruk. The decorations you set up are beautiful." She looked pointedly at the new candleholders on each table, guessing Aruk had commanded his waterbending apprentices to construct them, as each was made of ice and carefully sculpted to fit the candles. As wax dripped down the sides of each candle, the ice, too, melted. Aruk would have people running around all night, making sure they stayed frozen enough to do their job.

"I am glad you like them. Nothing but the best for the Peace Celebration."

Meira nodded. The Peace Celebration marked the stretch of time the four nations had gone without bloodshed. After the air nomad avatar vanquished Ozai the usurper, the war with the Fire Nation had come to an end. Riots and assassination attempts on the new Fire Lord had imperiled the supposed peace, but it had been almost two centuries since a battle had been fought over power. She supposed that was good enough cause for a celebration, but she couldn't make herself take joy in these festivities.

"Meira," a new voice called, piercing through the clamor of guests skating across the icy floor. She turned to her father. "Come to the stage, it's almost time."

She turned to Zelda, wishing more than anything that she could be sixteen again. Just two years older, the pressure was coming down on her like a hammer and chisel on ice.

But she couldn't be sixteen anymore, and her father was waiting for her at the platform under the skylight, so she dragged her feet across the ice and joined him at his side. Her mother joined her father at his right, her sleek, black hair tied up in loops and draped over the back of her head. Her golden eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

Chief Narue stood up, which seemed to be the universal sign for all the guests to find a seat and shut their mouths, since the seething crowd fell silent. The chief waited until all sound had disappeared from the massive room, waiting even for a wailing infant and a warrior clearing his throat. Then, in his booming voice, he began. "Tonight we gather here to celebrate two centuries of continued peace between the four nations. It is rare for such a time of prosperity, but the great moon, Yue, and the spirits of the ocean have allowed us to live in harmony with our fellow nations.

"We also celebrate the end of the eighteenth winter of my daughter, Meira, with the promise that she will become a great and loyal leader one day, when I can no longer rule. Let us hope, however, that she won't have to do so for many moons."

At this, a laugh echoed across the vast room. Bubbling giggles and deep-throated chuckles and lighthearted peals of laughter blended together in a warbling chorus, loud at first, then slowly fading as the atmosphere turned serious again.

"Meira, stand now, as my firstborn and the most skilled of Master Makar's students, heiress to the Northern Water Tribe, and daughter in spirit to all its people."

Her stiff legs unfolded, bringing her to her frozen feet, and she faked a smile for the whole tribe to see. _It won't be so bad. He said I didn't have to decide tonight. _

Her father gestured for a cart at the back of the room to approach. Six of his finest buffalo yaks pulled the hefty cart through the sea of people, puffs of fog drifting off their noses even in the comparative warmth of the indoors. As the wheeled cage rolled forward, Meira felt her pulse quicken. _I don't have to choose yet. Father said so. _

Chief Narue made an expansive gesture with his arms. "May the spirits guide us through another year of peace, and guide my daughter on the right path through the perilous journey of life. Bring forth the royal suitors!"

_Oh, _she thought, her knees giving out beneath her. _Shit. _


	2. Suitors

Chapter Two

The guard stationed at the end of her row kept her face from smashing into the ice when she fell. "Princess Meira, are you all right?"

Black spots clouded her vision, but all the other colors seemed too bright under the night sky. The candles, meant to provide subtle mood lighting, stabbed at her eyes like the glare of the midday sun against a sheet of ice. The reflective walls shifted and shimmered like mirrors, casting thousands of horrified faces back in her direction as she tumbled from her seat. Their apparent terror touched something in her, something that continued to function even as she became aware of the pair of arms supporting her limp figure. Whatever it was reminded her to preserve what little might remain of her dignity. She stood back up, leaning against the back of the bench for support. "I'm fine, I'm fine," she assured them all. "Just a fainting spell."

Her father was looking at her with barely concealed panic. He'd never seen her faint.

"I'm fine, I promise," she told him, before turning to her future subjects. "Yes, please, bring forth the suitors!"

Shifting in unease after her lapse, the guests made themselves appear attentive again. The buffalo yaks took the last few strides to the platform. One of Chief Narue's advisors called out names as men stepped out of the cart and into view. "Announcing Marble of the Southern Water Tribe. His many feats include fighting off a polar leopard, and earning a championship trophy at the pro-bending arenas in the Earth Kingdom."

There was some applause for the man who had traveled across the world for her hand in marriage. Meira made herself clap, trying to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes drifted across the sea of observers, looking for her sister's face.

"Next, we have Ramon from the Earth Kingdom. A master in several styles of earthbending, he is a fine choice for any young woman hoping to find a husband from a faraway land."

More applause. Meira met the young earthbender's green eyes and tried to smile.

"Another from the Earth Kingdom, a retired soldier of many medals. Though unable to bend, his fine bloodline and accomplishments make Sir Eladon a fitting suitor for a fine young lady."

_Just breathe. Breathe, and look them in the eyes. _This one was older than the others by several years, closer to thirty than eighteen. He must've been very accomplished indeed if her father had thought to offer him to her.

The advisor announced three more men, another from the Earth Kingdom, then two more from the Fire Nation.

"These fine young men will each have a chance to socialize with the princess individually," her father's advisor went on. "but for now, let's give them all a hearty round of applause, and a warm welcome from our not-so-warm city of snow."

This burst of applause was louder than the rest, probably in celebration for the dedicated suitors who'd journeyed so far to ask for her hand in marriage. Meira clapped more vigorously than before, but in relief instead of enthusiasm. Now that this part of the ceremony was over, the spotlight would shift away from her and to the entertainers and the steaming food sitting at each of the tables.

"Are you sure you're all right?" her father asked, as the men bowed to her and her people.

"I'm sure." _I'm sure I'm going to pass out again before the night is over. _She took a seat on her bench, hoping to avoid that embarrassment.

"These are all good men, but if they aren't to your liking, I can have another dozen suitors here within the month."

_Wonderful, _she thought, feigning a sweet smile for the waterbender from the Southern Water Tribe. _It's going to be a very long night._

"Princess Meira, it's an honor to meet you. You look even more stunning than the letters claimed."

"Why, thank you," she said, bracing herself for a stiff, formal conversation with this stranger.

The man from the Southern Water Tribe proved to be more dull than the fake spears she'd played with as a child. Every word he spoke was restricted to often-repeated compliments that were generic in nature, and even after she insisted that he call her by her name, he continued referring to her as "Princess," or "Lady." When her father suggested they send in the next suitor, she had to hide an eager grin.

The Earth Kingdom suitors were not much more promising. Of them, the older man was most interesting, choosing to talk about battles he'd been in. His scruffy beard and naturally loud voice reminded her of her father, though, and as soon as the thought crossed her mind, the any visions of marrying this man vanished. The others were not much better. One of them gushed about how pretty her brown hair was, and the other babbled on and on about various women he'd lain with. Her father ended that conversation before the boy's plate had even arrived at the table.

The Fire Nation suitors were next, and by this point, Meira was fearing that she'd remain an unmarried virgin until the years turned her skin turned wrinkled and papery, and bleached her dark hair white.

"My father was one of the Fire Lord's most trusted advisors, until he got banished for sleeping with the Fire Lord's daughter," the first one began. That was a short conversation.

Unfortunately, the other firebender, inebriated after half a cask of imported wine, managed to top that line with two simple words. "Wanna fuck?" He was then escorted off the premises, much to her relief.

"So, these new suitors you mentioned," she began, drawing the question out. "How many weeks until they arrive?"

"Three for some. Four for the rest. Perhaps they will be more to your liking."

_Way to set the bar high, Dad. Way to go. _"I was thinking . . . Maybe it could wait a few more moons. I'm not ready to marry."

"Nonsense. You're the princess of the Northern Water Tribe, and you need a husband you can trust at your side."

_How about a polar-bear dog instead? _she wanted to say. But she was the princess, and princesses didn't talk back to their fathers. She stood up. "May I go? I'm feeling a bit . . ." She didn't finish the sentence, but she made her body sway as if she was about to fall over. A look of alarm flashed across her father's face.

"Do you need me to take you back to the house?"

"No, no, don't trouble yourself. I just need some air."

His confused stare gave her the moment she needed to slip away. She weaved through the listing crowd, dodging platters as they made their way from the kitchen to the platform where she'd spent the past hour conversing with total strangers. The smell of smoked fish and sweat permeated the bustling room, and she pushed through the close-packed bodies, feeling her face flush with heat. In the North Pole, the temperature of any given area never rose above freezing. All these people huddled together raised the air temperature to an uncomfortable level, and the result was that her faked nausea became the real thing.

_Yue, get me out of here, please. I can't stand this._

The moon goddess must've taken pity on her, because at that moment, she reached a bubble of space in all the chaos. She sucked in a deep breath, reveling in the sharp pain of the cold air whistling down her throat. Eyes fell across her face, reddened with frustration, but this time, she couldn't compose herself. She rushed into the sea of people, relieved when the choppy waters parted for her instead of tugging her under with the current. Torches on the walls illuminated the exit, the distinct silk curtain drawing her attention to the arch. She slipped past the last of her guests and stormed out of the great dome, almost sprinting past the warriors who'd greeted her. Their gazes crawled up the back of her neck like a serpent, pushing her on.

She didn't stop until she reached the sea.

Under the full moon, the waters kissed the edge of the ice, shifting between hot, passionate touches, and soft, sweet caresses. On a chunk of ice, a turtle seal crooned a stirring melody, a soloist among the whispering waves.

Meira waved a hand over the water's surface to freeze it into a mirror. The moonlight glinted off the shiny surface, lending the mirror enough illumination to light up her haggard face. Her eyebrows sat in a flat line across her forehead, wrinkling her normally smooth skin in a chilling reminder of her imagined old age. Her cheeks burned red, like the torchlight inside the dome, but the rest of her face was as pale as the moon above. Two strands of hair had pulled loose from the braid at the back of her head, and hung over her cheeks in uneven lines.

_Worst party ever, _she thought, sitting down on the edge of the ice.

"That bad, huh?"

The voice startled her out of her self-pity; she turned to Zelda, standing a few feet behind her.

"I saw you leave," the firebender explained. "You looked like you were about to stab someone with a sharp stick."

_Accurate assumption. _"It was . . . It was pretty bad."

Zelda sat down beside her and rested her chin in her hands. Her face still had a hint of the childish roundness she'd been born with, but her expression appeared, in that moment, the countenance of a wise woman. "You don't need to get married anyway. You're smart, and a good waterbender, and the people will love you even if you don't have a husband."

"But a member of the royal family needs to produce _heirs _before they can be trusted to preserve the line, and it would be nice to have a supportive husband to help me with that."

The firebender rolled her eyes. "You can find one somewhere else. There are plenty of great guys out there who just don't have the paperwork to prove they're worthy of a princess."

"Out there. That's the problem, they're all _out there_. How am I supposed to find someone suitable _over here _when our father insists on bringing in a bunch of suitors like that?"

"Well, you could actually _go _out there."

"The Princess isn't permitted to leave the city except for political reasons."

"I think a royal marriage is political enough."

She shook her head. "No, you're not getting it. Father would never let me leave. I'm stuck on this stupid block of ice until I get married. Or die."

Zelda nodded. "I guess . . . But don't worry. Like Dad said, the next batch will be better."

"I should _hope _so. I don't think it could get much worse than tonight."

They sat in silence for a moment longer, as she tried to calm herself. After she had calmed down, she brushed the stray strands of hair away from her face and tucked them behind her ears. Her color had returned, she saw from the ice mirror, and her cheeks didn't burn quite so red as before. "I guess we'd better go back and endure the rest of that party, huh?"

Zelda stood up, quick on her feet as always. "I guess so."


	3. Hard Decisions

Chapter Three

"It was a wonderful party, Master Aruk. I only wish my suitors had been more fitting."

The event planner bowed, smiling at her praise. "It would have sweetened the event that much more, to be sure," he said. "but I'm glad you enjoyed the festivities."

"As for the next group of suitors," her father said, coming up behind her. "I shall have my scribe send a bird tonight. The closest one is already in northern waters; he may arrive before the moon begins to wane."

_That's only about ten days from now, _she thought, calculating. One of the nice things about being a waterbender was that she never needed anyone to tell her the date. The moon was her calendar, and she could sense which phase it was in, what time it rose, and where in the sky it sat at any given moment.

"Aren't you excited?" the chief asked, when she didn't respond.

"Of course," she lied.

Meira spent the next few minutes with her father and sister, saying farewell to the guests that had remained until the end of the party. It was nearing midnight now, and most of the ice candleholders had melted and refrozen as puddles on the tables. The torches on the wall, made of sturdier stuff, continued to burn even as she slipped through the silk curtain marking the exit.

Zelda skipped up to her side, a bone in her hand. Meat still clung to the middle, dripping down in tattered strands.

"What's that for?" Meira asked.

"I'm going to see if I can lure the turtle seals out."

She shook her head. "I will never understand your obsession with ugly animals."

"They aren't ugly! And anyway, I like them for their singing, not their beauty."

"No more arguing, you two," their father said, clapping a hand on each of their shoulders. "We're in public. We have an image to uphold."

Meira looked away from her sister and started toward their igloo. The icy tower rose above the rest of the city, casting a shadow through the snow-crusted walls. Smoke billowed out the smokestack, funneled through ducts made of bricks imported from the Earth Kingdom. The main level of the tower spread out in a circle, giving her family more floor space than a dozen normal-sized buildings. As Meira walked through the arch leading to the entryway, she paused to bow to her father, then walked to her bedroom.

As her silken sheets swallowed her body whole, she allowed herself to cry. _Stupid marriage contracts. Stupid suitors. Stupid customs. I'd be better off as a peasant. _She rolled over, burying her face in the feather pillow from the Earth Kingdom. It was imported, just like everything else in this city not made of ice and snow. The soft material and unfamiliar designs made her wish she'd been born in the Earth Kingdom. They manufactured everything there.

Outside, beyond the curtain over her door, her sister's light steps danced down the corridor, turning into the room adjacent to Meira's. A moment later, after some shuffling around and the poking at the fire, her father headed over to the chief's suite, where their mother slept, weary from the party.

Meira waited until the house had been silent for almost an hour. When she was sure no one was awake to hear, she crawled out of bed and emptied her school bag of all except for a few notebooks and some ink. When that was done, she skated over to her closet and shoved several outfits into her bag. The sound of fabric hissing against itself made her wince, but there was no way to quiet the rustling.

_What else? _she thought, making a mental checklist. _Food, some extra winter supplies, maybe a couple personal belongings. Money. I'll need money. _She slipped out of her room, peeking her head through the curtain to make sure no one in the house had woken up from the noise. The igloo remained quiet.

Their household received more gifts of propriety than any other household in the north. It seemed natural that some of those gifts included rare delicacies, imported sweets, and various cooking utensils. Meira raided the cupboards for pots and pans, relieved that, though her mother was a noble from the Fire Nation, she'd enjoyed cooking enough to bring several full sets of cookware to the North Pole with her. Clanging sounds echoed around the room as she stacked the pots, loud enough to wake half the city. If her father discovered her now, guards would be posted outside her doors and windows within the hour.

_Three pots and a pan. That should be plenty. _She slipped them into her bag, distress bubbling up in her as she saw how much space those simple supplies took up. She added a few eating utensils to the pile, setting them down carefully so they didn't make too much noise. She left the bag there, sliding it up against the cupboards, then hurried to the storage area.

Ice clung to the walls in thick sheets, opaque after being refrozen so many times. Crusted in ice were stacks of filleted fish, of varying species and sizes. Most of these were gifts from waterbenders trying to earn her father's favor. In her childhood, when such feats had still amused her, she'd watched skilled waterbenders lift dozens of fish out of the ocean in mere minutes, sometimes freezing them on the spot for easy transport. There were enough fish here to feed her family for three winters. The chief would never miss it.

She wrapped the frozen fish in paper, so they wouldn't drip all over her things if they started to melt, then hurried back to her bedroom, this time looking for her jewelry. Dozens of gems mined from other nations overflowed from the ivory box, clattering onto her desk. Meira went still for a moment, waiting to see if the noise had woken anyone, then started putting on layers of jewelry. On her ears, she hung a pair of diamonds the size of her smallest fingernail. Around her neck, she wore three necklaces, each heavy with the weight of precious and semiprecious stones. Bracelets came next, several for each arm, then rings, one or two on each finger. The weight of the charms, and the constant jingle as they brushed against each other, made her worry about the trip south. Ounces turned into pounds, and pounds made the body ache with exertion.

_That's it. I can sell these at the next port, and I'll have enough money to go anywhere. _She slipped out into the hallway, bypassing Zelda's room, then taking a sharp left toward the main door. As soon as the freezing air bit her tongue, a smile dawned on her face. _The hardest is over. All you have to do is get down to the docks. _

With the tribe silent and the sky dark, making her way through the desolate streets was no difficult task. Her feet were nimble and stealthy from years of waterbending practice, and once she put her coat on over her jewelry, the jingling ceased. She made it to the docks faster than would've been possible in the busy streets of the day.

The docks were little more than chunks of ice sculpted into rectangles for easy access. The first thing visitors saw, they hardly hinted at the city's grandeur. Meira hoped the lackluster structures would deter any prying eyes still awake at this hour.

Boats of varying sizes and purposes lined up along the side of the docks, but Meira didn't want to take any of them, especially since stealing the wrong one could mean the lost livelihood of some poor family within the walls. So instead, she set her bag at the edge of the dock, and froze the seawater in front of her so she had a nice disc to stand on. The chunk of ice bobbed up and down amidst the waves. She threw her bag over the top and crawled from the edge of the dock to the block of ice, her fingers numbing even through her mittens.

"Going somewhere?"

Meira whipped around, startled into speechlessness by the voice. The speaker crossed her arms, the movement illuminated by the half-moon. "Zelda," she breathed. "What are you doing here? What will Dad think, if he catches you out here at this hour?"

The sixteen-year-old arched one trimmed eyebrow. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe he'll think I'm trying to stop you from getting yourself killed out in the wilderness."

"I'm not going to get killed. Get out of here, Zelda. I've made my choice."

The firebender set a small roll of fabric down on the ice. It landed with a thud. "You forgot your sleeping gear."

Meira stared at the roll, a heavy-duty sleeping bag made of a polar leopard's fur. It sat on the ice, an accusation.

Zelda dropped a second bundle on the dock, this one larger. "I'm bringing mine, too, so you'd better make that chunk of ice a little bigger."

"Bringing your . . . Zelda, you're not coming with me."

"I am, and you can't stop me."

"I can too. Go home, before Dad wakes up and kills us both."

"No."

"Don't you realize how much it's going to hurt him and Mom if we _both _disappear? I'm not taking you away from them, too."

Zelda threw her hands up into the air. "Just what do you think is going to happen if you abandon the tribe? I'm the next in line, and as soon as they give up on finding you, they'll start looking for suitors for me. Are you so selfish to leave me here for an arranged marriage, just so you can go run around the other nations?" Fire overflowed between her fingers, singeing her mittens. Tears started to wash down her pale cheeks. "If I stay here and get married, I won't be able to find a firebending master. I've lived my whole life in your shadow, Meira, and I'm sick of being an afterthought."

"Well." She snatched her polar leopard sleeping roll off the dock and set it down beside her bag, then reached for Zelda's bag. "Fine."

The firebender's eyes widened, and her mouth fell open. "Really? You really mean it? I can come?"

"Yes. Now get on the boat before someone sees us."

A smile dawned on her sister's face, and the little firebender picked up her bag, leaping onto the ice chunk. As soon as she was onboard, Meira brought a wall of water up between their makeshift boat and the dock and pushed them out to sea. _Yue, please grant us safe travels. If Zelda dies on this journey, I'll never be able to face my father again._


	4. The New Avatar

Chapter Four

"Back off," Ferron growled as his back hit the cracked wall behind him. _Not good, _he thought, shifting into a fighting stance. "You don't want to fight me. I'm the Avatar."

The two boys, Terrin and Kule, laughed. "Yeah. Too bad you can barely bend your original element." Terrin sauntered forward, tossing a rock into the air, then catching it in his hand. "If you're our great hope for continuing peace, I'd say the world is royally fucked." He snatched Ferron's shirt by the collar and jerked him forward, tripping him so his face smashed into the ground. "Kule, hold him down. Let's see if he can bend this rock out of the way before it hits him."

The other boy, a fat blubbering bully with rust-colored eyes and freckles spotting his face like some form of pox, wallowed over to him, kneeling with some effort. Ferron waited for Kule to get halfway to the ground, then, quick as a striking spidersnake, brought his leg across the ground in an arc, hooking the boy's clumsy feet with his ankle. Kule staggered backwards, caught off balance by the impact. As the doughy bastard fell backwards into a trashcan, Ferron leapt to his feet, slipping away from Terrin's grasping hand with the agility of an airbender.

"You get back here, you little shit!" Terrin yelled, pitching the rock in his direction. Instead of bending it away, like an earthbender, he dodged the projectile, letting it crack the stone wall to his side instead of his head.

He was out of the alleyway before his tormentors could throw another stone.

His legs carried him almost a mile before his lungs began to burn. He slowed, and took stock of his surroundings, looking for familiar landmarks. In his blind panic, he'd fled far from his original destination. Of course, it didn't matter which streets he went down. Ba Sing Se had decayed in the years since the end of the war, and the architectural standards were slipping. Since the famed walls of the city had become unnecessary as a line of defense, maintenance crews had grown lax, first ignoring minor cracks in the surface of the wall, then abandoning crumbling sections, not even bothering to tear them down. The breaks in the walls made it easy for Ferron to slip from what used to be called the Lower Ring, and into the Middle Ring, where things were marginally more in tact.

There were a few good trash bins in this part of city. Middle-Ring residents weren't so stingy when it came to throwing out food. Anything with a bit of mold was discarded in the public trash receptacles, and bread made only two days previously was left to go stale amongst the discarded papers and broken bits of furniture. Buried treasure littered the garbage cans in the form of food and clothing.

He slipped into one of the side streets, moving with such purpose and confidence that one would assume he had a more upscale destination in mind. When he reached the overflowing dumpster behind one of the bakeries, he stopped and propped the lid open, being quiet so the owners wouldn't cast him out again. No one heard him, or if they did, they didn't bother to stop him. In a few brief minutes, he'd retrieved several loaves of burnt bread from the dumpster, some discarded croissants, and a jar of peanut spread, recently expired. He unscrewed the lid, smelled it, and decided it was fit for consumption, whatever the date read.

When you grew up in the lowest ring of this crumbling city, you learned how to feed yourself by any means necessary, no matter how disgusting the behavior seemed at first.

Fearing discovery, he fled with his loot back to the Lower Ring, moving in a wide semicircle around the cluster of buildings where he'd run into his tormentors. His eyes scanned the streets for some familiar landmark. When he passed by an old tea shop, one of the few structures that hadn't been abandoned, he turned down an alley and walked until he found a small building with a roof made of pale yellow shingles instead of the standard green ones.

Several kids peered out of the broken windows, trying to be discreet even as their mouths watered at the collection he carried in his arms. The door, little more than a chunk of rotten wood with rusted hinges, creaked open, revealing a boy of ten, with dirt in his hair. Without a word, the boy stepped aside and let him in.

As soon as the others saw him enter, smiles began to dawn on their faces. "Did you find anything good?" one of them asked, approaching. They called him Bird, because he could play the pan flute so it sounded like a singing sparrowkeet. Smiling a bit, Ferron pulled a croissant from his bag and handed it to Bird.

The others, Pickpocket, Smiles, and Stone-skip, gathered around for their share, knowing it was likely the only handout they'd receive today. "I've got to go," he told them as soon as he'd dispensed the pastries. "Sifu Fane chewed me out last time I didn't show up to my lesson."

There was a chorus of disappointment at the news. He ruffled Pickpocket's hair as he handed the young boy the peanut spread, then turned to Silent Night, still standing at the door even as he bit into his loaf of bread. "You can keep everything together for a couple hours, right?"

Silent Night nodded, as talkative as his name implied. Ferron clapped the boy on the shoulder and slipped out the door, as quick as he'd come.

"You're late."

His head whipped around at the sound of the voice, his foot coming down hard on the stones below. If he'd still been carrying the paper bag, he would've dropped it on the road. It took a moment for his heart to slow. "Sifu Fane," he grumbled.

"You should bow when you address your teachers."

He sighed, then made a quick bow, hoping that would stop her from complaining.

"Feet together, and don't slack on the hand positions, or I'll have you do an fifty weighted leg lifts."

He quickly corrected his stance, dreading the inevitable ache in his legs tomorrow. Whenever Fane was in a bad mood, he ended up taking the brunt of her punishments.

"Let's hurry to the Earthbending Academy," she said, bowing stiffly in return. "We have much to study, and little time for delay. The other masters can't wait around for the Avatar to show up at their doorstep; some of them are quite old."

_Not like me, _the last words implied. He was just glad she had the grace not to say it aloud.

Ferron waited for his teacher to turn away, then followed, dragging his feet against the rocky street.

* * *

><p>"General Shaio, you mentioned a plan for the eclipse. Are you suggesting we strike the Fire Nation first?"<p>

Shaio repressed a smile at the acknowledgement, and rose from his seat at the table. "Yes, Your Grace. The solar eclipse will render all firebenders powerless, enabling us to infiltrate several key cities in the Fire Nation, including the Capital."

"The royal family will be tucked away in their bunker, as they always are during solar eclipses," King Haran pointed out. " What makes you think we'll be able to land a decisive blow during the eclipse?"

"While the citizens of the Fire Nation wait out the eclipse, we can invade their unprotected cities and take over whoever happens to be about. Our attack will come as a complete surprise to them."

The Earth King nodded, pausing a moment to think. "What of the water tribes? How will we deal with them?"

"The water tribes are powerful, but isolated. They would not trouble us even if they arrive en masse at New Haran." The new capital had been erected early in King Haran's reign, rising up from the ground in similar fashion to Ba Sing Se, but with a fourth wall that was closely monitored to keep tabs on new arrivals. The massive city, twice the size of its predecessor, had promised the Earth Kingdom citizens a prosperous age. _More prosperous than they can imagine, after we snuff out the Fire Nation and the water tribes, _Shaio thought. _I can give them the whole world._

"You may sit, General Shaio. I will consider your proposition. Does anyone else wish to speak before we close the court for the night?"

No one spoke. The Earth King stood. "You are all dismissed then. I expect you to have troops ready at their stations before the moon turns. We will resume the war meeting tomorrow evening, after the dinner party."

Shaio stood, bowed deeply, and started for the door, radiating confidence with every step. Along with the other eleven Generals that made up the king's war council, he strode through the towering earthen doors, pushing them aside with a thrust of his fist. As he continued down the hallway, seventy-year old General Garda approached him, stroking his long, white beard. "Excellent plan, General Shaio. Striking our most formidable enemy at their weakest will give us the upper hand."

"Our most formidable enemy has grown complacent in two centuries of peace. This attack will put them on edge where they ought to be. And what better time to strike than the age where we have the Avatar on our side?"

"What better time, indeed."


	5. Landfall

Chapter Five

Meira woke to the mournful sound of wind howling through the icebergs.

Her sleep had been fitful to begin with, her nightmares overflowing with the bleak, dusky uncertainty that pervaded her thoughts in the few daylight hours. It didn't surprise her that she'd been woken by the wailing winds.

Zelda slept, curled up into a ball inside her sleeping bag. A puddle had formed in the ice, by her nose. Firebenders were warmer than most people, and even untrained firebenders like Zelda tended to warm the area around them without a conscious thought. Meira refroze the puddle before the hole went through the bottom of the boat and sunk them, then sat up to start bending the water around the boat in the direction they'd been going these past five days. The stars were her compass, but unreliable when the weather was occluded. Tonight, though, the sky was clear. She was having remarkable luck on that front.

_With a little more luck, we'll reach the Earth Kingdom before my father's men track me down. _At the thought, she pushed their boat a little faster over the water. Zelda stirred, groaning. "Is it morning already?" the firebender asked.

"No. Go back to sleep."

Where Meira had been the dutiful daughter of Chief Narue, Zelda was the rebellious teenager of the family. She ignored the order and sat up. "Have they found us? Or are we close?"

"No one's found us, and it'll be a while before we make landfall."

The girl sighed and threw off her sleeping bag and coat. "This is the first time I've felt so warm outside."

"I told you, the closer you get to the equator, the warmer the air turns."

"And the more powerful my firebending will be, if the scholars are right."

Meira didn't respond, focusing instead of keeping their makeshift boat moving through the warmer water. It wasn't quite warm enough for her to be comfortable without her coat, but she could feel the change in the air, especially when the wind touched her face. Even in the dead of summer, the North Pole wasn't this warm. _We're making good progress, then._

"What's the Earth Kingdom like?" Zelda asked.

"I don't know. I've only ever heard stories." She struggled to recall things that she had no real experience with, trying to come up with a more satisfactory answer. After five days out at sea, the two of them had run out of interesting conversation topics, so now that there was something to ponder, she spent more time thinking about her responses. "I've heard that they have plants all over the place, like the cabbages we import up north, but much more diverse. And there's thousands of different animals, sometimes all concentrated into a space the size of our city. Animals with brown fur instead of white, and thin coats instead of the blubbery hides the animals up north have . . . But I've never been there, not even when I was little, so I don't know."

Her sister seemed satisfied with that answer. With a disinterested look on her face, she leaned back and produced a ball of flame, bouncing it up and down in her palm. Meira pushed them faster, focusing now that there was silence between them.

Several hours passed before she saw a thin ridge of green on the horizon. The odd color and shape confused her for a moment, as she wondered what sea creature had a body that long, until she realized it was an island, stretched out across the waters. "Zelda, look!"

"What?" She leaned forward, her voice an octave high with panic. "Are we caught?"

"No. I see land." She pointed toward the stretch of green, staring at the unusual color with a childlike intensity. Zelda leaned over the edge of the boat and stared at the strip of land, her eyes going wide.

"Well, let's get going, then," the firebender suggested. Meira readjusted her position in the boat and started waving her arms, propelling them forward. All the while, her younger sister continued marveling at the dry, dirt-covered land.

Having traveled in boats all her life, Meira knew that objects on the horizon were often much farther away than the eye led people to believe. Even so, she continued waving her arms as if she could make it there in one long sweep, instead of stopping to rest every few minutes. Her arms soon grew sore, a familiar sensation to her after five days of the repetitive rowing motion, and they were still half a mile out when she had to stop.

"So, you think it's Earth Kingdom territory? Or Fire Nation?"

"It's not Fire Nation. The way we went, we're nowhere near the Fire Nation."

Zelda sighed. "How am I supposed to find a firebending teacher in the _Earth _Kingdom?"

"There's a lot of people in the Earth Kingdom. I'm sure some of them will come from a similar situation to yours, and be trained in firebending."

The girl frowned petulantly, then crossed her arms in front of her chest. Meira massaged her arms, then stood up again and pushed them closer to the island.

Though their lives didn't necessarily depend on them making landfall, it felt like they had reached a safe place after months at sea. When they hit the sandy beach, they leapt out of their ice boat and unloaded everything they owned in one swoop. Meira melted the boat, not wanting to leave it as a clue for her father's men in case they were closer than she'd expected.

"Let's go explore," Zelda suggested, appearing in that moment to be the kid sister Meira remembered from their younger years together. Even though the impulse to run off and touch everything on the island was childish, Meira found herself chasing after the swift firebender, running her hands across every surface. She picked up a handful of sand on her way in from the beach, letting it slip through her loose fingers. It felt almost like silk across her skin. When that impulse was met, she ran into the trees, scraggly little things that stuck out of the dirt like arrows. Her fingers traced the bark of several different trees. One was almost scratchy, like fingernails filed down to points. Another was smooth in the extreme, the bark flaking off like paper when she ran her hand across it. A few feet ahead of her, Zelda was doing the same.

"What's this smell?" the firebender asked, inhaling deeply. Meira did the same, breathing in the exotic fragrance. Some part of her recognized it as a cousin to the smell of imported vegetables and other Earth Kingdom products, but the intensity of this fragrance overpowered her.

_Is this was dirt smells like? _she wondered, breathing in again just to taste the exotic flavor on the back of her tongue. _Is this was plants smell like when they're all grouped together like this? _She sniffed again, noticing an absence this time. _It's the salt, _she realized. _The trees filter out the salty smell of the ocean. I can barely smell the sea. _

"This place is amazing!" She spun around, getting a panoramic view of the trees around her.

"Hey, this stuff burns way better than the stuff at the North Pole."

"Why are you burning things?" she asked, turning to see Zelda torching the leaves off a thin branch. They crumpled and blackened as they burned. "Maybe you shouldn't be doing that."

"Yeah, maybe you shouldn't."

She whirled toward the voice, thinking for a moment her father's men had tracked her down here. That thought vanished as the skinny man came into view. His clothes were like nothing she'd ever seen before. A pale green tunic hung over his torso, the edges tattered, like shredded bits of paper. His pants were long, like what she was familiar with, but not quite so baggy or soft-looking as the ones they wore back at the North Pole. In fact, they seemed too tight to be worn comfortably, and the bottoms of each leg had slits in them to loosen up the garment. These, like the shirt, had frayed and become crusted with dirt.

More astounding than the man's clothing, though, were the golden earrings hanging off his earlobes, and the mismatched necklace wrapped around his neck. Men of the water tribe never wore jewelry, except in formal rituals, where it was required to make contact with the spirits. Seeing a man of apparently low status wearing such expensive ornaments startled her into silence.

Zelda got over his unkempt appearance quicker than she did. "Why shouldn't I?"

"We don't want any firebenders around these parts, with the Earth Kingdom fleet deployed."

_Fleet? _Meira thought, confused. _Why would the Earth Kingdom be sending out their fleet? _"Wait, why are they sending ships out?"

The bejeweled man threw her a look of contempt, which quickly turned to fixation as he caught sight of her jewelry. "Hey, are those real pearls?" he asked, ignoring her question.

She lifted a hand to her neck, fingers tracing along the smooth pearls of her necklace. "Yes, and they belong to me."

A sleazy grin crossed his face, and Meira felt the first real ripple of disquiet pass through her. She retreated a step.

"And how much would you be willing to part with those for?"

"They're _mine._"

Zelda glanced up at her, then over to the ragged man, worry flitting across her face.

"Look, little lady, I know you women like your jewelry, but—"

"Don't call me that. I'm Princess Meira of the Northern Water Tribe, and I will not suffer such disrespect from a stranger."

The man's eyes widened. "Princess, huh? What is the ice princess doing with a firebender?"

"I'm her sister."

"Oh. Two for the price of one. The captain will be pleased. Won't he, boys?"

Meira had half a second of warning before a hand clamped down on her mouth. A thick arm coiled around her torso, pinning her arms to her side so she couldn't bend. She watched another man take hold of Zelda, jerking her back by her hair before snaring her in a death grip. The younger girl shrieked for a fraction of a second before a fist slammed into her temple, knocking her out. Meira tried to scream through the rush of panic, hoping for the first time since her departure that her father's men were nearby, but the hand pressing down on her lips only clamped down harder than before. Soon, she was out of air to scream with.

"Knock her out. We need to get them tied up good-n-proper before we head back."

Air, the same air that had smelled so fragrant and delightful a moment ago, whistled through her nostrils, reeking of sweat and peppermints. Before she could identify the peppermint smell as the man's breath, a fist flew across the side of her face, and the world turned inky black.


	6. The Meaning of Duty

Chapter Six

"How could you have allowed this to happen?" Chief Narue demanded, glaring at his household guards. "My family is to be protected at all times. How could you let someone steal into our house and make off with both my daughters?"

The younger of the two guards reeled back, intimidated by the chief's anger. Rage was an emotion Narue rarely displayed, given its propensity to upset diplomatic relations, but in this case, it had the effect he wanted. Stammering, the blue-clad warrior said. "N-Neither of the princess's gave any indication that they were in distress. We didn't even know they were g-gone until you told us."

"I will not have such lax warriors guarding the royal family. Both of you are permanently dismissed."

The two exchanged glances of horror, knowing the dishonor the words meant for them. Chief Narue suppressed the petty joy he felt at their expressions, knowing such shallow emotions had no place while his daughters were in danger.

His wife walked in just then, her silky robes trailing behind her with a subtle grace even in her haste. "I've sent the search parties out, just as you asked. There is no manpower being spared in the search for our daughters."

"Good. We'll find the bastards who took my children and feed them to the white wolves." That was the old way, the way people had been executed in the Northern Water Tribe in centuries past. War prisoners, traitors, murderers . . . anyone who committed such a foul crime was forced to face the serrated teeth of the carnivorous wolves as punishment.

"The guards said they disappeared without a struggle," his wife said hesitantly. "Is it possible that they merely decided to leave?"

Chief Narue glanced at her, trying to suppress the indignation he felt at the suggestion. He had not raised such flighty daughters, and he'd certainly done nothing to make them think that they were not wanted here. "Why would they do that, Zora?"

Her features settled into a more confident mask, the same mask she wore when she was speaking to diplomats from the other nations. The coldness in her expression matched the frigid tone of her voice. "Are you so blind, Narue? Did you not see Meira during the feast?"

He gaped, but his wife swept on mercilessly.

"Could you not have brought at least one or two acceptable suitors? Did you have to find the least compatible matches from every nation and force our daughter to choose between them?"

"You know I had to," he hissed, glancing around to make sure no one was within earshot. "I could not bring in someone who might steal Meira's heart before we can solidify the alliance with the Earth Kingdom. You know that."

"And what will you give the Earth King now that we have no bride to offer him? Yes, the alliance needed to stay secret from the public, but did you have to keep it from our daughters when you knew how they would react to these . . . these _wretched _suitors?"

"The secret needed to be protected. You know how young girls gossip."

The glare she favored him with made him wonder if she didn't have some latent firebending potential after all. "I do know. I was a girl once, too. I also know how little stock authority figures put into teenage gossip. Our daughters would not have left if you didn't keep such secrets from them."

"Zora . . ." He couldn't quite keep the shock out of his voice.

"They were my daughters, too. My flesh and blood, my birth pains, my joys. You will not deny me a part in their safe recovery."

"There's nothing you can _do_!" he shouted, drawing the attention of the new guards stationed outside their window. "You said so yourself, we have all the manpower we can spare searching for them."

"But here I stand, held to this block of ice because of _your _diplomacy, kept from my daughters because of _your _alliance. I won't deny the importance of good relations with the other nations, nor will I lessen the impact the Earth Kingdom would have over us in the event of another war. Things are strained, that much is sure. But you forget, Narue, that a father is supposed to love his daughters, not use them as bargaining chips to curry favor with other nations."

"I did my duty marrying you. Meira will do her duty and marry the Earth Prince."

"Duty?" she repeated sharply, turning away so only her back faced him. "Our marriage was nothing more than duty to you?"

He bit his tongue, wishing he wasn't so prone to thoughtless speech. "Only at first. I loved you, too, after we were married, and I love you now. I love our daughters just as much as you do."

She held up a hand to stop him. "I know you do. All I want is for you to act like it." She was silent for a moment, staring at the icy wall in front of her. "I know you value our family, and I know you are an honorable man. I would've never grown to love you otherwise. But we have greater concerns now than our own marriage, or the marriage of our daughter. I am concerned only of their safe return."

He nodded once, ashamed of his outbursts. "I know that. And I know we have weathered such storms as this together before."

"Then do the honorable thing, and go out searching yourself."

He blinked. _I can't just leave my duties here, _he wanted to say, but the words froze on his tongue. "Zora . . ."

"Do you remember what they taught you of Sozin's War in your history classes?"

Baffled by the direction of her thoughts, he said, "Of course I do."

"Do you remember what they told you about Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe? About how he went off to fight the Fire Nation, however he could, so his small village might survive the coming years? How he led an assault with his son on the Day of Black Sun? Do you think his men would have fought so valiantly if he had not been willing to face the enemy himself? Would they have given everything they had for a leader that spent the days writing letters from his igloo while they were out at war?"

He didn't answer.

Zora said, "This time, the enemy is not any nation. This time, the enemy is the vast Northern Sea, the great icebergs blocking our passage. Will you just stand here, afraid to face the sea and ice when you know how many great leaders have faced battle?"

His eyes dropped to the translucent ice of the floor. After a very long silence, he said, "I will ready our ship."

* * *

><p>The first thing Meira became aware of was the steady pounding of her head, and the sharp pain that pulsed in sync with the throbbing. She lifted one hand up to her forehead, not realizing until she moved one arm that her wrists were chained together. Her eyes flew open, and she half-sat up, going down as her skull protested against the agony. Tears rose up to her eyes, and she bit back a cry.<p>

Several minutes passed as she regained her bearings. After a while, she took note of the shifting surface beneath her. The gentle rocking motion was more familiar to her than any other part of this place, the rhythm a well-loved friend of hers. She knew she was on a ship.

_Not one of ours, _she thought, through the haze of pain. Water Tribe vessels were quite compact, leaving little space for empty cabins like this one. The wood lining the vessel was also unfamiliar to her, some southern type of wood that the water tribe didn't import. She wondered if that was because of distance, or because the tribe only used the finest materials to build their ships, instead of the most abundant ones.

It didn't matter. She opened her eyes and searched the room for any sign of her sister. Crumpled up against the opposite wall, Zelda slept. Her features looked almost peaceful, except for the purple bruise marring the side of her eye.

"Zelda," she whispered, praying no one else would hear her over the sounds of the waves. "Zelda, wake up." The little firebender didn't so much as stir. Meira grimaced, and tried to move closer. It was only when she felt the pressure around her hands increase that she realized, not only was she handcuffed, but her manacles were tethered to the wall by a thin chain. _This isn't good, _she thought, staring at the joint where the chain met the wall. The steel looked stable. "Zelda, come on, wake _up._"

Her sister stirred, her features losing any semblance of relaxation. A whimper of pain squeaked through her teeth.

"Quiet. We don't know who might be listening."

The girl's brown eyes slid open, and drifted across the walls, the chains. She blinked. "I'm sorry, Meira."

The apology stunned her. "For what?"

"They wouldn't have asked about us if I hadn't been burning things. It's my fault we're caught."

"Don't say things like that!" Quickly, she reined her voice in, eyes flashing to the door. Would someone come in, hearing their conversation? Was there anyone listening out there? "It's not your fault. They're thugs, pirates. They'll take whatever they want from whoever they want, and it's not your _fault_."

The other girl looked up at her with an enigmatic expression. "How are we going to get out of here?"

_Good question, _she thought, glancing around. Her head still ached fiercely from the blow she'd received, but she could almost think clearly. _The water outside the boat isn't close enough. I can't pull it in. _She bit her lip. "You've been practicing your firebending, right?"

Zelda looked at her more attentively. "Meira, we're chained up down here. Any fire I start will burn us up long before it sinks the ship."

"I know that." Water Tribe citizens were well versed in the dangers of a fire onboard. "I'm not asking you to burn a hole in the hull, but . . ." _What _am _I asking for? How can her firebending help us? _

Her sister waited, slowly sitting up as she became more aware of her surroundings. Her lips stretched into a grimace.

"Okay, so someone has to check on us as some point, right? To feed us and make sure we aren't causing trouble."

"Right . . ."

"So, um . . . Is there any way you could make their clothes catch fire, if we need a distraction?"

She frowned. "I guess, but . . . Meira, what makes you think they're going to unshackle us long enough for that to work?"

The truth was, she had no idea if they were going to be unchained anytime soon. She tried to reason through it aloud. "Well . . . If they're going to sell us off, they'll have to take us off the boat. That means they'll have to at least take off the chains holding us to the wall. Once we're in sight of the water, I should be able to use my waterbending to break the shackles off. That'd be when we'd need to distract them most, I think."

Zelda considered this for a long moment, her face unusually serious. "Meira?"

"Yes?"

Her brown eyes lifted, shining with nascent tears. "What if they didn't take us down here to sell us?"

"Of course that's it. Why else would . . ." She trailed off as the alternatives occurred to her. Everyone knew that pirates weren't the most honorable people in the world, but . . . _Surely they wouldn't. Not us. We're royalty, we're too valuable to be used like that. _"They wouldn't dare," she said, lacking any other reassurances. The budding tears slipped down Zelda's cheeks, but before Meira could say anything else, the sound of shifting steel alerted her to a presence outside the door.


	7. Disquiet in Ba Sing Se

Chapter Seven

"Get into a solid stance, you wretched boy," Sifu Fane commanded, stomping her foot to bring another rock from the ground. Ferron widened his stance, toes curling up in preparation for the attack. "How do you expect to master the other three elements when you can't even master your own?"

"Well, I'm sorry I didn't start formal training until I was fourteen," he grumbled.

Sifu Fane launched the fist-sized rock at his face. Ferron gritted his teeth, knuckles turning white as his hands curled into fists. A stone slab rose sluggishly out of the ground in front of him, then sunk back down as he dodged the rock his teacher had thrown.

"Stop dodging and think like an earthbender."

"I don't want to get hit!"

The thirty-three-year-old brought a wall of rock up from the ground with a twitch of her left foot and shoved it at him. Even as his mind processed the insurmountable height of the wall, the muscles in his legs tensed, and he sprung up into the air. The stone wall smashed into him, too high to overcome, and he flew backwards, landing with a thud. The rough dirt scraped his back, skinning him from shoulder to hip.

"You have to learn to take a hit," Sifu Fane told him. "People aren't going to listen to you if you refuse to hold your ground."

"I _am _holding my ground," he growled, rolling to his feet, then ducking to avoid another rock. "_Hey_."

"Your friends at school don't seem to think so."

He glowered at her a moment, trying to dissect the meaning behind the words. School was always miserable, but he had a few friends who'd liked him even before he'd been revealed as the Avatar._ Like Freya . . . _

Ferron kicked a rock aside, not bothering to use his earthbending. "What do you mean by that, anyway?" he grumbled.

Sifu Fane crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I'm talking about Fat Boy and Square Face."

Ferron might've laughed if the two bullies—Kule and Terrin—hadn't chased him halfway across campus yesterday. "They're stupid. There's no point in fighting them."

"Look, you might be the Avatar, but you're an earthbender _first_. You have to act like it."

"_Have _to? Like how I _have _to master all four elements, or how I _have _to stop hanging around in the lower ring even though the city walls started crumbling years ago?" He stood up. "I never _wanted _this responsibility. The world can solve its own problems, with an Avatar or without one."

His teacher looked at him for a long moment, not backing down. _Of course not, _he thought venomously. _She's a natural-born earthbender, after all. Why _would _she back down? _

The green-eyed woman's foot shifted, and the ground beneath him was reduced to the consistency of water. He splashed down, dirt flying all around him as his arms flailed for purchase. Before he could find solid ground, the mass of dirt hardened around him and sealed him waist-high in earth. "What the _hell_?" he demanded.

"Come find me when you get yourself out of there," Sifu Fane said, her voice oddly subdued. "Then you'll be ready to learn."

"I don't want to learn. Let me _out_!"

The earthbending master turned on her heel and strolled toward the gates. "Good night, Ferron."

"You aren't seriously going to leave me out here, are you?"

She stepped through the gate and brought the stone door up from beneath the surface.

_You bitch, _he thought. His fury spiked again as he looked down at his earthen prison. The condensed dirt clung close to his skin, affording him no room to squirm his way out. He tried slipping his fingers in between his shirt and the rock, hoping to dig himself free, but the ground was solid. _She really trapped me here. I can't believe it._

He took a deep breath, calculating the risks of being trapped. Though not quite painful, the awkward angle of his legs felt unnatural and uncomfortable. When he tried to move them, he found they were just as immobilized as his waist.

Ferron sighed, leaning over and resting his face in his arms. His nose brushed the ground as he did so. "I can't believe she left me here."

The air was still except for the intermittent chirping of sparrowkeets. Once nothing more than escaped pets, the green birds now had a thriving wild population inside the city of walls. _They moved in and everybody else moved out, _Ferron thought irrelevantly. _We have a new capital now, and its name is New Haran. _He remembered the mass exodus as the citizens of Ba Sing Se had cleared out in favor of inhabiting the new capital, though he'd barely been old enough to walk at the time. People were obsessed with the modern castle and impressive technology being put forth by Earth Kingdom mechanists. They could even record and broadcast the Earth King's speeches on television now. He shook his head. _If they want to make speeches, they should make speeches. It'd be a lot more effective than repeating the same thing over and over again on a screen._

He sighed, straightening his back as much as he was capable. "I've got to get out of here," he muttered, pressing his hands down into the dirt. He closed his eyes, trying to feel the vibrations of the earth beneath him, the little shifts Sifu Fane was always talking about.

He felt nothing.

_I might have been born without the ability to bend, for all the good I can do. _He brought his fist down, striking the ground in an attempt to jar something loose. For a moment, he felt something, some small twist of energy coiling up in his body. And then it was gone, leaving him entombed in the dirt.

_Earth is a stubborn element, _he reminded himself. _You have to keep chipping away at it if you want it to break. _He brought his fist down again, trying to recapture the spark of energy he'd managed before. For just a moment, he thought he felt the earth shift around his feet. _Okay, that's it. Just keep chipping away at it. _Another blow, and the rocks around him shifted again. Three more, and he began to realize his motions were only further tangling this feet beneath him. _There must be a better way._

He took a deep breath._ I hate this, _he thought, slamming the side of his hand down into the dirt. The impact sent fireworks of pain up his wrist. "Damn it."

"Need some help there?"

His eyes shot up to the speaker. She sat atop the academy wall, haloed in moonlight. A waterfall of white hair tumbled down her bare shoulders, which were muscular from a life of good nutrition and earthbending. With the refinement of beauty products and dyes, unnatural hair colors like hers had swept the big cities, most notably in the Earth Kingdom. Despite this, he could see the dark brown stripe of her roots on the top of her head. "Freya."

She hopped down from the wall, the ground rippling out from the point of impact. "Who buried you?"

"Take a guess."

"Well, it's either your tormentors, Terrin and Kule, or Sifu Fane."

"It was Fane. Can you help me out of here?"

She skated across the ground, perfectly in control of her element, and knelt down in front of him. "I could. Or I could poke you with a stick until you go into the Avatar State, and see if you can get out yourself."

He laughed bitterly. "As if I could."

"You should practice getting out on your own."

"You should practice being a little less responsible."

Freya rolled her eyes. "Ah, but then you wouldn't love me."

The words were obviously meant as a joke. After all, they'd been friends ever since she'd defended him from Terrin in the fourth grade. Even so, Ferron had to repress the impulse to flinch. _I would never stop loving you, _he thought, staring at a pebble just out of his reach. Instead of saying that, he said, "You're supposed to be my friend aren't you? Help me out."

An excited grin dawned on her face and she took her stance. "Ready?"

He braced himself. "Ready."

Freya lifted her right leg, balancing on her left. The whole city fell silent in her moment of stillness. The sparrowkeets stopped chattering, the distant voices of kids playing games disappeared, and even the pet shop two streets away—with its constant cacophony of animals—went abruptly and eerily silent.

Freya brought her foot down, and Ferron shot up from the ground, flying six feet up before crashing on the rubble. "Ow . . ."

"Sorry. I guess I don't know my own strength."

_Don't show pain, _he thought, resisting the urge to massage his bruised tailbone. "I'm fine. Thanks."

The white-haired girl bit her lip. "You really should listen to Sifu Fane. She knows what she's doing."

"Yeah, well . . ." He rolled his neck to the side until his joints cracked. After hours of failed earthbending practice, his bones were as stiff and rigid as his element. He didn't bother to finish his sentence. After so many years, Freya knew him well enough to understand.

"She's just trying to help you, Ferron. Being the Avatar is a sacred duty, and it's important that you stick with your training. And I'm trying to help you, too." Her face turned away, the moonlight shining softly against her cheekbones. "Because you mean a lot to me."

He looked away, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. "You mean a lot to me, too . . ."

Freya was quiet for a minute, her brown eyes resting on a barren flower pot set up against the wall. He held his breath, waiting for her to say something else. A silence blanketed the city, an uncomfortable pressure against his eardrums. All around him, the luminescent crystals of Ba Sing Se shed their green light across the yard.

"Freya . . ." he said softly, requesting some sort of reply.

Suddenly, the girl glanced up at the sky, her expression shifting from contemplation to alarm. His gaze followed hers automatically, but before he even looked, a shiver of disquiet ran down his spine.

High up in the sky, blotting out the golden pinpricks of the stars above, a massive balloon-like vessel sailed through the sky. At first, Ferron didn't recognized the oblong shape. It seemed to have the combined attributes of a giant balloon and a boat, like an imperial version of those he'd seen traversing the few canals running through the middle and upper ring. The airship looked too heavy to fly, but the wind parted before it regardless, and it sailed soundlessly through the sky. And all at once, he knew the silence over the city wasn't the product of random chance, or even a result of Freya's earthbending.

No, this was the silence of a world about to end.


	8. Day of Black Sun

_Author's Note._

_We see most of the characters in this chapter. Enjoy._

Chapter Eight

Ferron knew of the hundred-year war. Last semester, it had been the longest unit of study in his history class. He remembered looking at sketches of Fire Nation war machines, ranging from sleek cruisers on the shifting seas and massive airships with intimidating points. It was from these sketches that he recognized the airship above him now.

"It's a warship," he said softly, staring up at the green Earth Kingdom symbol emblazoned on the balloon. All the stars vanished behind the behemoth, save for those at the very edges of the night sky. During his chat with Freya, the sun had sunk beneath the horizon, leaving the darkness to creep in wherever the moon didn't shine. Shadows lay in shallow pools beside every building or piece of furniture.

"I don't understand," Freya whispered. The wispy edge to her voice drew his attention, and he looked over to see the green light of the luminescent crystals reflecting in the dark pools of her eyes. "Why would there be a flyover tonight? The Peace Celebration was over a week ago. They can't still be doing memorial services, can they?"

The Earth Kingdom airship passed, letting the stars shine again. They seemed duller somehow, as if the passing airship had stolen their light.

"Someone's probably just touring the Earth Kingdom," he finally said, looking down to the hole in the ground where Sifu Fane had imprisoned him a while ago. "Some rich guy who likes history or something."

Freya stared at the airship until it disappeared beyond the crumbling remnants of the outer wall. "Yeah. I guess so." She lifted her index finger to her lips and bit it softly, a gesture he hadn't seen from her since middle school. "It's late."

"I'll walk you home."

Her voice was hollow. "You don't have to—"

"I want to." He took her hand, feeling the softness of her palms between his fingers. She didn't pull away. "Let's go."

They walked out of the earthbending academy, their footsteps echoing against the stone structures around them. Ferron waited for the city to come back to life. Evening had only just fallen, and there should've been people wandering around in droves. But even the sparrowkeets were silent, perched in their nests hours earlier than usual. _Are the nights getting longer already? The solstice was only a few weeks ago. Or are they hiding from something? _

He pushed the thought away. Even if the sparrowkeets _were _hiding, it was likely from some stray dog. None of the birds here now had been around the last time warships had taken to the sky. None of them knew the horrors of war as the books told it. They wouldn't hide even if there were a dozen airships overhead.

But as they walked through the bazaar and past rows of increasingly impressive houses, it became clear that the _people _were hiding. The candlelight had vanished from most of the households. Children, normally running around well into the night this time of year, peered out of windows and ducked away from the glass as they passed. Muscular men fresh from the bending arenas ducked their heads and maneuvered quickly through the streets, not stopping to bicker or exchange jokes.

Ever since the Earth Kingdom capital had shifted from here to New Haran, Ferron had considered the city of Ba Sing Se to be a dying ember on the map. Despite this, there had always been a faint glow, a promise that the city might be reborn if the people chose to nurture it again. But now, it almost felt like his city was going out, fading in the wake of that passing airship.

In the distance, he could hear the sound of engines whirring to life. He glanced uneasily over to Freya. "Your house is down Third Street, right?"

"Yeah. Ferron . . ." She turned to him, and he caught a glimmer of his reflection in her wide eyes. His features were sunken after years of malnutrition, and his hair stuck out in a dull brown disarray. _I look homeless, _he thought bitterly, glancing down at the ground in front of him.

"We're here," he said, before she could say anything else. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Freya bit her lip. "Tomorrow, then."

He bowed quickly, then turned away. As he did so, his gaze fell across the front garden. Pots of panda lilies, each carefully transplanted from the Hanshin Volcano, marked the perimeter of Freya's front yard, watered daily by her servants. Each pot bore elaborate etchings of Earth Kingdom symbols. Wrapped around some of the stems were silk ribbons of varying colors, though what those ribbons could mean was known only to the gardeners who tended them.

"Good night," Freya said, closing the double doors behind her. He stood on her porch a moment more, staring at the rare flowers.

"Yeah. It was," he whispered to himself.

* * *

><p>General Shaio stared down at the Fire Nation Capital, peering through the wispy clouds with a grin.<p>

"Sir, we're in position," one of his underlings told him.

"Ready the shells," he ordered, clasping his hands behind his back as he retreated from the sky deck and into the control room. He sidestepped the glass section of the floor, uneasy over open air despite the barrier. The ground beneath him was baked orange by the rising sun. They'd been flying through the night, in their fastest aircrafts, cutting across a sizeable chunk of Earth Kingdom airspace then piercing the heart of the Fire Nation. _And still, they have no idea what's about to hit them, _he thought. "Target the palace, first," he told the soldier. "Wait until the eclipse starts, then carpet-bomb the capital."

"Yes, sir." The soldier disappeared, heading toward the engine room and into the adjacent chamber from which the bombs could be dropped remotely. General Shaio went over to the control room's table. The transparent surface was stained in some places with a map of the world. Each Nation was color coordinated, in much the same fashion they'd been two hundred years ago, during Sozin's War. _The world falls divided again, but when we piece it back together, it will be under Earth Kingdom control. _

He smiled and called for one of his lesser guards to bring him a cup of jasmine tea. In less than a minute, a lukewarm cup sat in front of him. He sipped gingerly, lips twisting at the bitter taste. _Idiots left it sitting out too long, _he thought, swallowing thickly before setting the cup aside.

He picked up the small radio from the table and pressed the red button. "This is General Shaio speaking. Is everything clear on the eastern front?"

"Airship One-Ninety-Two is clear," came a voice.

"Ship One-eighty-one is clear," buzzed another.

"Airship Two-sixteen is clear," said a third.

General Shaio waited for the last airship to report. When it didn't, he pressed the button on his receiver again. "Two-twenty-one, are you clear?"

Only static on the other line. He repeated his message, to no avail. _Out of range? _he wondered, about to speak again when he got a hazy reply.

"General, we've got a possible pirate sighting near the eastern front."

"Of all the—" He bit back the words, composing himself before speaking into the device again. "Remain in formation, Two-twenty-one. We can examine it after we demolish the city."

Another crackle of static filtered through the radio. _Cheap piece of shit, _General Shaio thought. After a moment, the man from Two-twenty-one spoke again. "Understood, sir."

He turned the dial down so the static wouldn't drive him insane, then turned toward the window, looking out at the glaring sun. It was ten-fifteen now. In two minutes, the moon would cover the edge of the sun and the Fire Nation would be powerless. Just two minutes.

* * *

><p>Meira rolled to her knees, straining against her shackles as she tried to present herself as nobly as possible. The metal door swung sluggishly open, the sharp edge scraping against the floor with a squeal.<p>

"Who's hungry?" called a voice. The door opened wide enough to reveal the man's face; Meira recognized the skinny pirate they'd met on the island.

"Release us immediately," she commanded.

The man, jewelry hanging from every conceivable body part, threw her a weary glance as he set the plate down. Meira didn't recognize the white mush on the corner of the plate, but nothing about it screamed "food" to her, and she doubted it was safe to eat anyway, despite the pangs of hunger in her stomach. "I am the Princess of the Northern Water Tribe," she said, glaring into the pirate's beady black eyes.

"Look here, you little bitch, I don't care who you are." He snatched the hood of her jacket and pulled her to her feet so that the chains strained against her wrists. A moment later, his lips were at her ear. "Everybody has a price, and the more people who believe your squawking, the more gold we'll get for you."

A new voice cut in. "Don't damage the merchandise, Jin. The slavers will pay more if they're in better condition."

_Slavers? _Meira thought, the world going still around her. _We're really going to be sold? _

"You better back off," Zelda snarled from across the cell.

"Oh, and you must be the little sister," the second speaker murmured, lumbering in through the door. He knelt down next to Zelda.

"Leave her alone!" Meira yelled. The man ignored her, extending a hand to Zelda's chin and tilting her face up.

"You're a pretty little girl. The people at the Black Market will pay by the bucket for you."

The firebender glared up at him, her eyes flashing with barely leashed fury. "Yeah? And how much would they pay for our corpses? Cause that's what it's going to take to get us there."

_What are you doing? _Meira wondered, staring at her sister. The pirate started to move his hand across the skin of her neck, but before his fingertips could reach her throat, her teeth clamped down around his hand. He shrieked, jerking his hand away and staggering back several meters. "You bitch!" he shouted, more in shock than in anger. Orange fire took to his sleeve. Blisters broke out across the back of his hand as his arm flailed.

Meira writhed against her chains, praying they'd pull loose from the wall if she just fought hard enough. With her captors distracted, and the door hanging open, it was her best chance to escape.

The pirate threw off his cloak and started beating it against the wall with his left hand. The other hand was tinged red from the burns.

_Come on, _Meira thought, pulling at the chains hard enough to send fireworks up pain up her wrists. _Come on . . . _

A great crash resonated through the tiny cell, and the boat listed heavily to the side. Everyone rolled with it.

"What the hell was that?" the pirate named Jin shouted as he hit the wall.

Another crash rocked the boat, and Meira found herself wondering the same thing. _It's like someone dropped a bomb outside, _she thought, though that was impossible. Another part of her was praying to Yue that whatever had caused the violent crash would somehow free them from this hellhole.

Yue must have heard, because with the next crash, the hull of the ship splintered, and water rushed into their cell.


	9. A World on Fire

Chapter Nine

Meira's first reaction when the water came rushing in was to bend it toward her. As the torrent exploded through the tiny room, it slammed her into the nearest wall hard enough to knock the air out of her lungs. Instinctively, her chained hands clawed at the water, forcing the twisting currents to obey her will. She funneled the water around her, struggling to hold her breath despite the grey dots swarming her vision, and brought the water down where her chain was tethered to the wall. The thin links snapped apart, and the water carried her close to the door, away from the hole in the hull.

That was when Meira realized she couldn't swim.

Having spent her entire life in the eternal winter of the North Pole, Meira had never been able to remove her coat for more than a few minutes at a time, most of them inside her igloo. And though she'd felt the stinging pain of freezing water on her skin during her waterbending practice, she'd never been submerged long enough to learn the basic strokes of swimming. It seemed hideously ironic, as the saltwater overtook her, that a master waterbender would be unable to swim.

Her arms flailed through the salty fluid, bubbles breaking through her lips and coming up from her nostrils. Water encased her on every side, the pockets of air banished to the surface as the boat listed further. Her eyes opened just far enough for her to see Zelda clinging to the splintered edges of the hole, watching her with steady brown eyes. Her face was that of a child waiting for their older sibling to pick them up from bending practice. Patient, but not eager or distressed.

_She's handling this so much better than me, _Meira thought. _All of it. Dealing with the pirates, thinking about what might happen to us, getting ready to swim away. And here, I'm supposed to the big sister._

_I have to be strong, too. I have to keep her safe for Dad. _She closed her eyes and focused all her energy on bringing the ship back up to the surface. The longer they were below sea level, the more likely they were to drown.

She brought her arms down in a slow, powerful movement, like the arms of a Koalaotter. The currents rushing through the cramped room shifted, water pushing its way out of the small compartment as she moved. The ship groaned and splintered, not equipped to handle such abuse. The pirates who'd invaded their prison cell a few minutes ago had long ago been washed away to some other part of the ship.

Closest to the hole, Zelda was the first to catch a breath. She stuck her head up through the opening and sucked in sharp gasp. Meira brought the water level down a few more feet, then took a ragged breath of her own. Her whole body had gone limp with adrenaline, but she managed to cough out a weak question. "You okay, sis?"

She waited a beat for Zelda to answer, then looked over to the soaked girl. An eerie orange light bounced off her skin, staining it bronze. Her dark eyes reflected what initially looked like dancing tufts of orange crepe paper. Meira cut her sister's chains with a carefully placed water whip. "Zelda?"

A drop of moisture ran down her sister's cheek, though whether it was a tear or water from the ocean, Meira couldn't be sure. The firebender opened her mouth as if to answer, then let loose a pitiful squeak, eyebrows pulling together in anguish.

Meira turned to look at whatever had captured her sister's attention, still panting after their prolonged submersion. Her field of vision filled with conflicting colors: fluttering tongues of orange rising up from blackened grass, dark plumes coming off rickety structures and rising up to form a black cloud in the sky, and specks of gray snow descending from the heavens.

Zelda spoke. "I don't feel so good . . ."

Something about her tone made Meira glance back. The firebender's face was paler than usual, her eyes wide spheres among her rounded features. Any other time, Meira might've focused in on Zelda's face, looking for signs of illness, but her eyes caught on a strange crescent on the edge of her vision.

The sun always looked distant in the North Pole. Along with the South Pole, their region received the least direct sunlight anywhere in the world. Here, the bright circle seemed so much closer, taking up a great part of the horizon. _Where _are _we? _she wondered, watching a shadow fall across the edge of the sun. The celestial anomaly confused her, along with all the other odd occurrences she'd witnessed today. But slowly, she realized the moon was blocking out the sun.

Another explosion erupted from the island.

* * *

><p>General Shaio looked down at the burning city, smiling. "Brilliant," he murmured, taking a sip from his cup of tea. This time, it was warm and well made. <em>It seems luck is on my side, <em>he thought.

"Shall we ready the next set of bombs, General?" one of his soldiers asked.

"Yes. Drop them wherever you don't see fire."

"Yes sir." The soldier ducked back into the engine room, leaving him in peace. Convincing King Haran to go through with his plan had been the hard part, but now, all he had to do was watch over the Fire Nation as it burned to the ground.

_How ironic, _he thought._ that the Fire Nation would fall victim to its own element on a day where they cannot produce flames of their own. _General Shaio glanced up, seeing the black circle in the sky where the moon covered the sun. He estimated they had another four minutes before anyone regained their firebending. _And by then, the city will have been razed to ash. _

He returned his attention to the shivering patches of orange below and sipped his tea.

* * *

><p>Taemin winced as another rumble rocked the bunker. A high-pitched whimper whipped through the tight-packed bodies as the walls shook.<p>

_That one must've been close,_ she thought, gritting her teeth. The vibrations were so intense, it made it seem like the bombs were landing right in the palace. _For all I know, they are, _she thought. _They certainly seemed to have no reservations about it during the first wave. _

When she'd seen the raindrop-shaped chunk of metal falling beyond her bedroom window, she'd assumed it was a modified air balloon crashing because some unfortunate firebender hadn't been aware of the eclipse. A tragic mistake, but only deadly for those on the balloon. When she'd seen the brilliant flash of white—the hellish, impossible fire—after the bomb hit the far corner of the palace, she'd realized how dire the situation was.

The shockwave alone had sent Taemin tumbling across her room and into the metal wall. Several seconds had gone by before she'd been able to catch her breath, and by then, everything outside her window was dyed a bloody orange. She'd snatched her stuffed tigerdillo from her bed and run out into the hall, looking for any sign of her mother. But Fire Lady Alasane had been nowhere in sight, and it had been one of her handmaids, not her mother, who had taken her by the wrist and dragged her down to the unused bunker where she stood now.

"Where's Mom?" she'd asked, when the black-haired woman had towed her past stone dragons and into the old metal room.

The woman had pulled the heavy door open, dropping to her knees when another explosion had rocked the palace above. Through the thunderous rumble, she'd yelled, "She's coming! Don't worry!"

Taemin had allowed herself to be pushed into the bunker, not even questioning it when her handmaid had raced back up the stairs leading to the main level. Other people—all nobles, as far as she could tell—had flooded into the small room in the following minutes, pushing her closer and closer to the wall until she'd been on the verge of crying. People had always listened to her, shown her the utmost courtesy. Such behavior was expected when speaking to a princess. Being ignored by everyone around her had at first confused her, then upset her.

"A princess must never weep," she whispered to herself as another bomb hit the palace above. Her father had told her that dozens of times since becoming Fire Lord. "A princess must never weep . . ."

She clutched her tigerdillo doll closer to her chest, closing her eyes. Droplets of sweat ran down her forehead and arms, a result of the body heat and the restriction on her firebending. This was the first eclipse she'd ever endured, and though she was aware of the sickening effects it had on firebenders, she couldn't help but think it could've come at a better time. _Why would someone attack us when we're already so weak?_ she wondered, wrinkles forming around her eyes as they clenched tighter against the vibrations. _Why couldn't they wait and fight fair? _

It seemed like an unwritten rule that there was no speaking in the bunker. Either everyone was too afraid to be heard by the enemy, whoever they were, or there just wasn't anything to say. But as the explosions faded, silence crept into the little room. The cessation of sound made her uneasy. She didn't even sleep in complete silence—she had a music box on her dresser that played music until someone came in and shut it off for her. _Mother used to do that, but not so much since she became Fire Lady . . ._

The silence became a pressure on her eardrums, but she dared not break it. Whoever had attacked them might be sending in ground troops now that they were done dropping bombs, or at least that was what she'd guessed from the initial rush of conversation when everyone had first flooded the bunker. Of course, she'd heard a lot of things then, many of them conflicting. Some had said the Earth Kingdom had dropped the bombs, while another had claimed the Earth Kingdom had no air force. A couple nobles had chattered animatedly about the possibility of a terrorist attack before being shushed by a wrinkled woman. One had even claimed he'd seen a water tribe insignia on one of the airships.

_That guy was crazy, _Taemin thought. _The water tribes don't have the military capabilities to create an airship, and even if they did, they don't have enough people to win a war. _

The sickening effects of the eclipse began to wane, and the atmosphere in the bunker relaxed a little bit. _I haven't heard anything in a long time. Maybe the airships are gone. _

Minutes passed, stretching on until someone made note of the hour. Taemin stared at the corner, unable to let go of her tigerdillo doll when it was the only familiar thing in the vicinity. Her grandmother had given it to her seven summers ago, when she'd been five, for the annual Peace Celebration. _But I guess there's not going to be peace anymore._

A harsh series of knocks came down on the door. "This is Admiral Rozen," came a female voice. "All surviving citizens and nobles are to evacuate the city immediately. Open up."

A balding man with a snow-colored beard opened the door, and everyone filed out, sluggish after over an hour in the tight space. Taemin followed the crowd, her legs tingling.

"Where's Mom?" she asked the woman. Admiral Rozen glanced down at her in annoyance.

"There's no time for that now. Get upstairs."

Taemin felt an unfamiliar surge of anger. "I want my mom. Where is she?"

Another soldier tapped the brunette's armored shoulder and whispered something in her ear. A grim look crossed her face, followed by something akin to pity. "Where's my mom?" Taemin whispered again, her voice hoarse.

Admiral Rozen knelt down and laid two gloved hands on Taemin's shoulder. "I'm sorry Princess, but your mother wasn't in the bunker."

The words sunk in, like molasses sinking into a bowl of cake mix. Young as she was, she understood the significance of that statement. _No one could've survived out in the open, _she thought, tears budding in her eyes. _Especially not during an eclipse. _"She was outside?"

Admiral Rozen nodded once. "She was outside."

The world rotated around her, like it sometimes did when she spun around a lot during her firebending practice. Only this time, when she fell, she didn't get back up.


	10. The Beginning of the War

_Author's Notes:_

_I went back and titled all the previous chapters. I also realized that, as much as I plan to flesh out the world in this story, I'm going to need longer chapters to get my story across in a reasonable amount of chapters. So from this point on, the chapter lengths will be about double what I usually write, and will be titled according to their content. _

_Also, I apologize for the long wait. I've gotten in pretty deep with my other fics, most notably my Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle stories, but also _The End of Mercy_. And since I'm still in high school, I'm not able to update all my stories as often as I like. So I apologize for the wait, and any confusion or panic it may have caused._

_Thanks to all of you who have reviewed so far. You guys give me the inspiration to keep writing._

Chapter Ten

Ferron slipped through the door, slinking into the cramped apartment. As a sharp voice pierced the living room, he knew his attempt at stealth had failed.

"And just where have you been?"

He turned, closing the door behind him. "My earthbending classes ran late."

His mother rose from her cushions, crossing her arms in front of her. A crimson kimono hung from her delicate frame, a relic from her days working at the brothels. The silky folds rippled like fire in the dull light. "Four hours late?"

He hadn't been home five minutes, and he already wanted to leave. "Sifu Fane wanted to teach me about creating a rock shield."

His mother arched one eyebrow, then relaxed back into her cushions. "Someone came by looking for you earlier this evening."

He gave no response except to walk over to his bedroom door. Enough people visited him just to say they'd met the new Avatar. He doubted this was anything especially important.

"They offered to bring you to New Haran, to learn earthbending," his mother said, just as his hand coiled around the knob.

He turned. "I have an earthbending teacher _here_."

Her eyes opened wide. "But consider the possibilities, Ferron! You could go to the Earth Kingdom capital, meet the king himself! And surely the people there will be much more capable teachers than the one you have here."

"Sifu Fane is a wonderful teacher, Mother, and I refuse to drop my classes to find someone else," he said, though the idea finding a different teacher did have its appeal. But his mother would never accept his other responsibilities, never accept that he spent hours every day digging through trash bins or fleeing from school bullies.

Would never accept that he was tethered to this place by his relationships as she was by their poverty.

"Well, I think you should consider it," his mother went on, heedless of his protests. "Opportunities like this don't just appear for no reason. You're the Avatar. Accept this as a gift from the spirits."

His hands clenched into fists, and for a moment, he felt as if he could shatter the stone floor beneath him and fall into a bottomless chasm. He exhaled heavily, regaining control of himself. "I'll think about it," he said, to appease her. His hand came down on the brass doorknob; he retreated inside his room, closing the door behind him.

He spent hours tossing and turning on his mattress that night. Every few minutes, just as he reached the edge of sleep, his mother's words would echo in his ears and jerk him back into wakefulness.

_I could leave this place, _he thought, eyelids sliding open. _I could leave Ba Sing Se and never look back. I could go somewhere where I'd be welcomed, where they'd throw feasts in my honor instead of rocks at my shame. I could go anywhere in the world . . . if I could take Freya with me . . . _The mere thought of leaving her in this decrepit city, to wither away until she could marry and become the head of her household, made him squirm under his blankets.

As if his guilt over the thought of leaving Freya hadn't been enough to keep him awake, other faces flickered in front of his eyes. The boys in the lower ring depended on him to bring food. Sure, Bird and Pickpocket could probably pull together enough to feed the rest of them in the summer, when food was abundant, but only Ferron knew where the richest pickings were. He'd never told the boys about those prime locations, knowing that if it ever came down to them starving versus him surviving the winter, he would choose his own survival.

_If I were to leave . . . I'd have to tell someone where to look. Maybe Silent Night. He's always been good about bringing what he finds back to the house. Better than I used to be . . . _Ferron closed his eyes again, resolving to catch a few hours of sleep before Sifu Fane came banging on the front door commanding him to go to school. It was still hours before he was able to dream.

In his dream, he was with Freya again, outside the earthbending academy. She appeared to him just as she had earlier tonight, silhouetted by the moon. All the tiny imperfections in her features were gone—her skin was as smooth as a placid pond; the brown roots of her hair were not showing behind the dyed white strands; and her clothes hung delicately over her body, each outfit tailored to her exact height and figure. When she smiled, the whole world came alive with light and fire.

The dream skipped ahead, and they were watching the airship slice through the sky above them. The stars winked out of existence, leaving only the hulking mass of the passing airship. The edges of it seemed to bleed malevolence, as if its very existence tainted the air around it.

Another skip, and it was daytime again. The sun caught on the shiny skin of the balloon, which in turn gave off a blinding glare. Then suddenly, a shadow overtook the sun, wrapping around it like a lampshade over a light bulb, and the glare subsided to reveal the Earth Kingdom insignia on the blimp. Something fell from the bottom of the airship, dropped from the main compartment. For a moment, Ferron wondered what it was. It looked almost like a half-full sack of rice, except more rigid, and rounded at the top.

The view shifted again, and he was looking up as the projectile fell down on him. His first reaction was to pull a wall of stone from the ground. In his state of panic, his earthbending abilities should have been amplified. Surely he'd be able to pull up a shield now, when his life was in danger.

But the earth didn't even stir.

The falling mass—he could see the metallic tint to its outer shell, despite the lack of light—smashed into the ground. Crimson fire exploded out from the point of impact and engulfed everything in the vicinity. Wooden buildings collapsed, then burned. Tongues of flame licked his arms, wrapping around them like restraints. Ferron pulled away, stunned by the searing agony. He'd never had a dream that had felt this real.

_A dream . . . I'm still dreaming, but somehow, I can feel pain. It feels so real, but . . . _

A scream tore through the air, shattering his train of thought. Ferron ran toward the cry, deeper into the fire. The scream cut off before he reached it, the voice behind it withering like desiccated flowers in a drought. More screams took up the chorus, assaulting his ears from every direction, and there was fire _everywhere_ . . .

Ferron woke to the sound of a fist pounding against his door.

"Ferron, sweetie, there are people here to see you," his mother called. It took him a moment to acclimate to the real world again, after the bizarrely realistic nightmare, and another few seconds for his heart rate to drop to an acceptable level.

"Ferron, are you awake?"

"Yeah," he choked out, trying to ignore the taste of ashes in his mouth. He wiped the sweat off his face and neck and stripped off his nightclothes in favor of his school uniform. With the sun streaming in the windows, that was almost certainly the reason he was being summoned. Though his mother usually slept in well past lunchtime, now that her job at the brothels was no longer necessary to feed the two of them . . . One of the few perks to being the Avatar was the flood of gifts his status lent him, and the brief cessation of hunger that resulted from it. _What will happen to Mother if I leave? _he wondered, shoving one arm through his sleeve. _The gifts will stop coming to this apartment, and she'll have to go back to work._

His groggy mind was just starting to process her words. _Wait, why do we have visitors this early in the morning? They usually wait until evening to stop by. Unless it's those people Mother was talking about last night. _He struggled to recall exactly what she'd said, but all he could remember was that they'd offered to take him to New Haran. _I won't go, they can't make me._

Once he was presentable, he opened his bedroom door and stepped out to greet his visitors, whoever they were.

Four men in cone-shaped hats, wearing green coats with gold trim, bowed as he appeared. "Avatar Ferron," one of them said formally, emphasizing the last syllable instead of the first.

"You can just call me Ferron."

"As you wish," a different man said, though their voices were so similar that, if he hadn't seen the second man move his mouth, he would've assumed it was the same speaker. "We are the Dai-Li, servants of His Grace, King Haran."

_Oh no, _he thought, stomach dropping. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he mumbled, bowing. "Does the King have orders for me, or something?"

The first speaker nodded. "He wished for the Avatar to be brought to New Haran as soon as possible."

"Oh. Any reason why?"

"There are martial matters to be discussed, and he wishes for you to be present."

"_Martial _matters?" he echoed. "As in _war_ meetings?"

All four men nodded.

_Impossible, _Ferron thought. _I must still be dreaming. There can't be a _war_, we just had a Peace Celebration . . . _Ferron swallowed his shock. "I don't understand," he whispered. "There's no _war_, why is the king holding a war meeting?"

The Dai-Li exchanged surprised glances. Ferron took a moment to look to his mother, standing on the other side of the room, over by her cushions. Her expression was calm, but he could see the strange paleness in her features, and the way her painted fingernails dug into her palms.

"You mean to say you know nothing of the unrest in the Earth Kingdom?" the closest Dai-Li agent asked.

"Of _course_ I know about the state of unrest!" he snapped, his shock morphing to irritation. He'd heard people clamoring about it in the streets all week. "But we aren't at war yet."

"We are," the second agent said. The words hit Ferron like a rock. "The trade negotiations with the Fire Nation have failed, and our economy is at risk because of it. King Haran sent the warships out last night."

_Last night? _he thought, hand shaking. Last night, he'd watched a blimp fly over the city, headed . . . _Headed straight to the Fire Nation, _he thought, feeling as if the earth under his feet had turned to air. "No."

"Yes, Avatar. The Earth Kingdom is at war, and the King is demanding your presence on his councils."

_No . . . _The house listed to the side, like a boat over choppy waters. Black smudges marred the edges of his vision. Ferron felt the side of his face hit the ground, and then everything went dark.

* * *

><p>"Take my hand," Meira instructed, reaching for her sister.<p>

Zelda looked up, her face paler than Meira had ever seen it. It took her a moment to process the words, then another to reach out for the waterbender's hands. "I feel sick."

"It's the eclipse," Meira told her. "Remember? The scholars said a solar eclipse makes it impossible to firebend."

The firebender blinked. "Yeah . . ."

"It'll be over soon, but right now, we have to get onto dry land."

Zelda looked over at the rocky shore, her eyes glazed over. Beneath them, the pirates' ship sunk deeper into the bay. Meira clung tighter to the piece of driftwood and started kicking her feet, hoping she'd be able to bend the water like propellers before they both drowned. "Kick your legs, Zelda, and hold onto my hand."

"But the land's on fire."

"Yes, but neither of us can swim. If we go out into the open ocean, we'll drown."

The firebender exhaled slowly, eyebrows pinching together as she tried to focus. The swelling on the side of her face hadn't gone down much since they'd woken up on the pirates' ship, but for the first time, Meira began to fear that the damage ran deeper than the surface. The pirates had knocked them both out, and that had been jarring enough, but had they been so brutal that their blows had caused lingering damage?

After a moment, Zelda started kicking. To Meira's surprise, she took to water with the ease of a baby koalaotter. _Maybe she _is _part waterbender. _

They paddled to the shore. As soon as Meira felt her feet hit the round rocks under the surface, she released the driftwood and took hold of her sister. "Come on. Just a few feet further, and we'll get that bruise looked at."

"Okay . . ." Zelda staggered across the rocky beach, almost falling over. Both their coats drizzled streams of water as they climbed onto shore.

"Sit down," Meira instructed, guiding the firebender to a relatively smooth patch of sand. As soon as the girl was seated, the waterbender brought a stream of saltwater from the sea and coated her hands with it.

"Hold still. I want to look at that cheek." She lifted her hand to the firebender's face and let the cool water drift across her skin. The liquid shimmered with a faint luminescence as she poured her energy into it. Healing had never been her greatest skill, but if she could ease her sister's pain even a little bit, that would be better than nothing.

"I can't feel the sun," Zelda whispered.

"I know. It's the eclipse. The same thing happens to waterbenders during the lunar eclipse."

"D'you think . . ."

"Do I think what?"

"N'ver mind . . ."

"Zelda? Hey, are you all right? Answer me. _Zelda_."

The glow faded from her fingertips, water splashing down on the beach.

"Zelda, _answer _me! You have to stay awake, you have a head injury."

"I'm awake . . ."

"Good," she breathed, heart beating hard against her ribs. "Stay awake. That's the most important thing right now. The sick feeling will pass as soon as the eclipse is over."

Zelda opened her eyes, head lolling toward the rising tongues of orange beyond the beach. The fire reflected in her eyes. "Do you think . . . something happened here? Something bad?"

"I don't know."_ Probably._

The firebender watched the distant inferno, her gaze more focused than a moment ago. _Did my healing help her, or is she just having a lucid moment? _

"You know what I learned in geography class last year?" Zelda asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Most Fire Nation beaches are covered in rocks instead of sand, because of all the volcanic activity. Obsidian shards . . . from lava cooling to stone." She picked something from the ground and held it up. The black rock reflected the orange fire, just as Zelda's dark eyes had. "Rocks like these."

Meira nodded, trying to follow her sister's train of thought. It took her a moment to get it. "You think we're in the Fire Nation?"

The firebender nodded. "Or what's left of it. I overheard Dad talking to some diplomats from the Earth Kingdom, a couple months ago . . . They said there was an embargo between the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation. No trading at all."

"That's right." _Dad made me sit in on that meeting. He said it was so I could get used to dealing with foreign diplomats, but I hardly even paid attention. _

"So I got to thinking: why would the Earth Kingdom stop trading with the Fire Nation? I mean, sure, they can manufacture pretty much everything on their own, but . . . The Fire Nation buys a lot of raw materials from the Earth Kingdom. Metal and oil for their machines, stuff like that. Not that the Fire Nation couldn't be self-sufficient, but there are things they'd have to go without if trading stopped between the two nations."

"Things like what?" Meira asked, trying to piece together what she remembered of the meeting and what Zelda was telling her about now.

Very quietly, Zelda said, "Weapons. Armor. Guns. Tanks. Without metals from the Earth Kingdom, they would have a very limited supply of these things. And the only reason the Earth Kingdom would need to withhold raw materials like that is if they were about to start a war."

As soon as the words were out, everything clicked into place for Meira. _Of course. A war. That's what those pirates meant, when they said the Earth Kingdom had already deployed their fleet. That's why there was an embargo on goods. Those were the sounds we heard from inside the ship. And the eclipse would be the ideal time for a first strike. _"Oh, Yue above us, you're right."

Zelda groaned, tilting her head up to the sky. The edge of the sun was just beginning to peek out again. "The eclipse is past its halfway point," she whispered. "But this war is just starting."

"It's going to be okay. We'll find a way back to the North Pole. Dad will keep the water tribes out of this war—"

"No!" Zelda yelled, then winced, as if the volume of her own voice had hurt her. "We can't go back."

"Don't be silly. We _have _to go back. If someone finds us here, they could assume we were privy to the attack. We have to go home _now, _before someone begins to wonder where the princesses of the Northern Water Tribe were when the first bombs made landfall."

"Every nation fought in Sozin's War," Zelda said, with such intensity that it brought the waterbender up short. "They all fought to survive, to defend their families and homes. They all fought to _end _the war."

"If we get involved, our family will be at risk," Meira countered. "The water tribes are small—they always have been. We would suffer the most if we got involved, and all for naught. We can no more change the tides of a war than an earthbender can change the tides of the sea. Leave the other nations to their battles, Zelda. We have too much to lose."

"Look at me!" the other girl shouted, shooting up to her feet. She swayed slightly, but managed to stay standing. Her arms exploded out in a frustrated gesture. "I'm Fire Nation! My hair, my eyes, my element are all Fire Nation. My mother is Fire Nation. I will not ignore a war where my people are dying!"

"Your _people _are at the North Pole."

"Those are _your _people, Meira, admit it. You are the _embodiment _of the Northern Water Tribe. You look and act just like a waterbender should. You've mastered your element. But me? I've been stuck on a chunk of ice for sixteen years, without any way to learn firebending, with only our mother to connect me to the my people. I may have been born to a water tribe family, and brought up as one of you, but I am not a waterbender. I am too foreign, too different. I will always be alone there, no matter how hard they try to make me feel welcome.

"But you, Big Sister? They adore you. They admire you more than any water tribe princess has been admired since Yue. If you called for war, even if Dad argued against it, people would follow you. But not me. Don't you see, Meira? I can only ever be free of your shadow in the Fire Nation. And if I can't fight for them—defend them against this unjust attack—then I . . ." She faltered, her breathing shaky. "Then I'm nothing."

Meira stared at the firebender, trying to come up with some reply to her impassioned speech. Any words that came to mind got stuck in the back of her throat. "I didn't know," she finally said. "I thought being part of the Northern Water Tribe was enough for you."

Zelda looked down. "I love my family, and I love the North Pole, but there are things going on in the world right now that I can't turn away from. And as much as I wish I could, I can't face them alone, so . . . If you really want to go home, I can find some other way to defend the Fire Nation, but . . . Truthfully, you're the only person in the world I trust to keep me safe, no matter what. I'd really like if you'd at least stay with me until I can find a firebending teacher."

_All she wants is to find a place in the world, _Meira thought, fighting against the rush of pity she felt for the younger girl. _All she wants is to be someone who people will admire without having to declare herself a princess. To have a place in the world, without rank or title, that will still matter in a hundred years._

_Is what I wanted any different? Did I resist the suitors Dad called in because I hated them, or because I valued my own accomplishments more than my station? _

_Dad is probably crossing the ocean looking for us,_ she reminded herself._ If we're gone much longer, they'll worry we got ourselves killed in the fighting. And what if we do? If both of us get killed . . . There's not another heir. Mom and Dad don't want any more kids, and they're getting too old, anyway. Losing two daughters would be hard enough, but being forced to produce another heir because of it? That's too much. No one should have to go through that. But Zelda's right—she can't handle this on her own. Someone needs to go with her, and I've got the skills to keep us alive. Maybe. If I were to head north without her . . . that would be like leaving her alone on a battlefield. And she'll be safe, once she finds a good firebending teacher. She can masquerade as an ordinary firebender while she's here. The Northern Water Tribe needn't get involved at all. _

Meira sighed heavily. "You do realize the peril this puts us in, if we get mixed up in this."

"I do," the firebender said, sounding much stronger than she had a few minutes ago. The eclipse was nearly over. "I still want to go."

Rays of sunshine hit the shore, reflecting off the shards of obsidian and making the whole beach light up as if aflame. Meira looked up. "Only until we find you a firebending teacher. As soon as we do, I have to go back."

A broad grin split Zelda's face, and she almost tackled Meira to the ground as she rushed to embrace her. "You're the best sister in the world."

"And no names," Meira said sternly. "I don't want any more trouble like we had with the pirates."

The firebender hugged her tighter. "Okay."

"And we're going to stay out of trouble, as much as possible. You might want to fight in the war, but I'd rather keep all my limbs in tact."

Zelda pulled back, an objection on her lips.

"No," Meira said before her sister could speak. "That's the deal. No trouble, no running off to fight, no taking unnecessary risks, _until _you've mastered firebending."

"But that could take years!"

"That's the deal. You stay out of trouble, or I'll _make _you come back home."

The firebender puffed up like a dragon about to breathe fire. Then, her shoulders sagged and she let out a gusty breath. "Deal."

"Good. Now let's find someplace that isn't on fire."


	11. A Princess Becomes a Ruler

_Author's Notes:_

_We see Taemin again in this chapter. If you've forgotten who she is, you can refer back to the last section of chapter nine. We also get our first scene from Sifu Fane's point of view._

* * *

><p>Chapter Eleven<p>

The quantity of people in Ferron's apartment would've made Fane nervous if she hadn't already been furious.

_Those moronic nobles at the capital, _she thought, spitting at the base of a barrel as she stalked down the cobblestone streets. _Making senseless war, then broadcasting the details of the attack all over the country._

She'd seen the images on the TV screen on her way to the earthbending academy. Most of the time, she bypassed the little electronics shop, uninterested in their wares when she was already busy enough teaching the new Avatar, but the silent crowd of people gathered around the screens had piqued her interest, so she'd gone over to watch.

It had been King Haran on the television, announcing their assault on the Fire Nation earlier that morning. At six-foot-four, the king was an imposing figure. His piercing gold eyes didn't do anything to make him more approachable. But it was his _voice_—the clear, decisive quality to every word that passed his lips—that froze Fane where she stood.

"We will not bow our heads while the Fire Nation manipulates us and destroys us from within. They could not be trusted two centuries ago, and they cannot be trusted now." The king stepped away from his podium, the cameras following his every step as he strode across the stage. "We are a great people, capable of great things. I have absolute confidence that we will win this war, and this conflict will be resolved within the year. The Fire Nation _will _see reason!"

At this, Fane had torn her eyes from the television. She'd never held great respect for the Earth King or any of his ilk, but this was too much. _He can't even manage his own cities, _she thought, eyes flashing to a dozen cracks in the once-famed walls. _How can he justify a war that will further diminish our resources? _

"I am asking all those who are physically able to fight to join the army," the king went on, turning his piercing gaze directly into the camera. Fane found herself looking up again. "The danger will be great, but your names will forever be etched in the hearts of your fellow countrymen. The same goes for all those who are unable to fight, but willing to manufacture tools and weapons for our soldiers. This war is ours, and it is your solemn _duty _to assist this country however you can."

Fane turned away and stalked off to the lower ring. If they thought she was going to train young earthbenders to fight in an unjust war . . .

As she drew closer to the cluster of houses, her seismic sense picked up on the unusual number of people in her student's apartment. Ferron himself was lying asleep in the living room, though he should've been getting ready for school by now. _That brat, _Fane thought. _He thinks he can skip class now just because he's the Avatar? _The stones shifted under her feet in response to her rage.

By the time she reached the door, she had a clearer picture of the four strangers crammed into the tiny apartment. She could feel, through her seismic sense, the heavy fabric of their matching coats, and the odd, cone-shaped hats on their heads. Still, she wasn't able to identify the strange figures until after Madam Tero opened the door.

"Madam Fane," Ferron's mother greeted her. "What a wonderful surprise."

Fane's eyes flitted to the four strangers in the room. They wore the colors of the Earth Kingdom, but their clothes were much more refined than those of most people in the lower ring. From the identical coats and hats, the clothes could only be some sort of uniform. The gold trim declaring their station finally allowed Fane to make the connection.

"Madam Tero," she greeted Ferron's mother, keeping her voice level. "I apologize if I am intruding. I didn't know you had such high-ranking officials visiting."

The woman's lips tilted up into an uneasy smile. "It's no problem. Please, come in. I'm sure the Dai-Li would be very interested in speaking to you, as well."

"This is the Avatar's earthbending teacher?" one of the Dai-Li asked, eyeing her contemptuously.

"I am the greatest Ba Sing Se has to offer, and a capable teacher besides. So what business do you have with my student?"

"Madam—"

"Fane," she said.

"Madam Fane, I am sure by this hour, you have heard of the attack on the Fire Nation."

Her natural inclination was to break into a rant about the sheer stupidity of going to war. She resisted the urge and said, "I learned of it a few minutes ago. But how does that relate to my student?"

"The Earth King wishes to bring him to New Haran, where he will be safe."

"The boy will not leave Ba Sing Se."

"The Earth King—"

"The boy will not leave Ba Sing Se! You fail to understand what you're doing. You will find no ally in him if you rip him away from this city."

"Madam Fane," Ferron's mother interjected. "I don't mean to be rude, but perhaps it _would _be for the best. Ferron would have so much more contact with skilled earthbenders in the capital. Really, you must—"

Fane held up a hand to stop her. "This is not a question of connections or opportunity. The boy is not ready to leave, especially not to go to war."

The Dai-Li agent held up his hands in a peacemaking gesture. "We have no desire to force the Avatar into war. The Earth King merely wanted him on his councils, to discuss worldly matters."

"Then we shall wait for him to wake up from whatever trauma you've caused him. But no decision will be made on his account without him being aware for the discussion."

The Dai-Li exchanged glances, a silent conversation running between them. Fane held her ground across the living room, trying to look threatening without actually provoking them. She had to tread these waters carefully, if she wanted to keep her student here.

"As you wish," the first speaker said. "We shall return this evening, after he has had a chance to recuperate. But the conversation cannot be put off any longer than that."

Fane nodded. The Dai-Li agents lined up single-file and passed over the threshold of the front door.

Madam Tero looked up, an odd mixture of gratitude and annoyance written across her face. The woman looked back to her son, her features softening a little. "I just want him to have the best opportunities I can give him. I didn't mean to insult your way of teaching."

Fane shook her head and swept over to the boy's bedside. "Doesn't matter. He wouldn't have gone anyway."

Something like resentment flashed in Madam Tero's eyes, but she bowed her head. _No wonder Ferron's a terrible earthbender, _Fane thought, sitting down next to the cushions where they'd left the unconscious boy._ His mother never taught him to hold his ground. _"What happened to him?"

"The Dai-Li told him about the war, and he fainted."

Fane checked the boy for any serious injuries he might've sustained in the fall. His arm was bruised, along with his face. _The boy didn't even have the presence of mind to soften the landing._ She shook her head.

"Madam Fane, what are you going to do when he wakes up?"

_Solve your problems. _"I have to talk to him about his decisions. And then I need to convince him to stay out of this war."

"Oh, but—"

"Madam Tero, I know you're not well versed in politics, but I assure you, everything good you hear about this war is utter bullshit. There is no good in war, no heroes, no gain worthy of so many lives lost. People learned that lesson during Sozin's War. If we push the Avatar, the _peacemaker _between all four nations, into war, we will be setting a precedent that cannot be reversed. I will not allow such shortsighted drones as the Dai-Li lead my student to believe that war is a way of solving problems."

Ferron's mother closed her mouth, turning away. "My boy . . ."

Fane rolled her eyes. "He'll be fine. I won't allow him to get tangled up in this conflict without a full understanding of his actions." _Though if he ever grows a backbone and wants to join the war, even I won't be able to oppose him. _

It was quiet for a few minutes. When it became clear that Ferron hadn't simply been feigning unconsciousness to avoid the conversation, she got up and paced around the apartment.

Madam Tero watched her for a few minutes before grabbing some rags from under the sink and heading out to clean the bathroom. From the distaste in her face, Fane guessed this rare event was brought on by stress more than the woman's desire to clean.

Every now and then, Fane's pacing would cease, and she would stare at her sleeping student. She seldom got to see him in a state of relaxation, and whenever she did, it would only be minutes before he closed up again, some persistent worry nagging at him. The stress had painted dark patches under his eyes, and kept his withered features from filling out as much as they should have. His school uniform hung over his spindly limbs, the fabric loose and baggy. Though he'd fattened up some with the onslaught of gifts he'd received since becoming the Avatar, his body was still pitifully thin, his hair dull with years of malnutrition. Living in the lower ring all his life had worn him in a way nothing else could.

_Perhaps he will choose to leave, after all, _Fane thought._ If only to be free of this wretched place._ She lifted her eyes to the window, her gaze freezing on the crowd of people circling the electronics store. There were more of them now, their gazes never abandoning the TV screens. _They know this war will bring change, even if they don't understand what kind._

_But will Ferron understand?_

* * *

><p>"All you have to do is sit there and look like you're listening. We'll take care of the rest."<p>

Taemin blinked, clutching her stuffed tigerdillo to her chest as she sank deeper into the padded chair. It wasn't as massive or luxurious as her father's throne had been, but with the palace in shambles, the court advisors had insisted she hold meetings in the plaza.

_They're my advisors now, _she thought numbly. Some distant part of her wanted to sob, but she'd already shed rivers of tears this morning. She didn't want to dishonor her parents' deaths by weeping in front of all these people.

And there so _many _of them. More people than Taemin could've counted even if she'd had a week to do it. All the surviving members of the city not in the hospital, plus shiploads of important officials and witnesses from elsewhere in the Fire Nation. The shifting masses crowded into the plaza, like a grains of sand filling a hole in the ground.

Admiral Rozen stepped toward the massive crowd. She was clad in her red and gold armor, and bearing a sword symbolic of her rank and position in the royal guard. Her dark brown hair tumbled down the back of her armor in rich waves. "Today we gather to crown the new Fire Lord: Lady Taemin, of the Fire Nation!" she called across the silent plaza. "And also to remember with fondness our previous Fire Lord and Fire Lady."

Taemin stared at the crowd, hardly hearing the words. _Oh, I can't do this, I can't, I'm going to throw up . . . _

The next person stood up. "This war will be a harsh one," Fire Sage Haeda announced, his booming voice carrying easily across the silent masses. "I have seen it in my fires. This ill-fated attack must be answered, however, in any way it can. We _must _rally, under one sun, under one nation, and fight back!"

_Even the Fire Sages are calling for war, _Taemin thought, breathing deeply to dispel her queasiness. If anything, the influx of oxygen made her hypersensitive to the uncomfortable churning in her stomach. _I ate all those shrimp before I got here. Maybe that's it. _Her next breath was shallower than the last, as she struggled for control over her body.

"Are you all right, Princess?" one of her advisors whispered. Taemin recognized the face from her father's meetings, but she couldn't call a name to memory.

"Just a little nervous," she told him, as the Fire Sage went on to talk about Sozin's War.

"Don't be," her advisor said. "Every new Fire Lord has survived their coronation. Well, except for Prince Azel. But that was over three centuries ago."

Her face must've reflected her unease, because the man's voice softened. "Fear not, Lady Taemin. This is a wondrous occasion, even if the events leading up to it are far from joyous. You are the first woman ever to be crowned as Fire Lord. You must set a good precedent for future generations."

She nodded slowly, though she recalled a few women who'd come close. According to her history lessons, the last woman who had come close to ascending the throne had been Lady Azula, the pitiful madwoman who had lost the crown to her brother at the end of Sozin's War. _What if they think _I'm _crazy, too? _Taemin wondered, stomach clenching painfully around her lunch. _Will I be sent off to a mental institution? Will my advisors have to take care of the Fire Nation while they look for my replacement? What if I'm not a good Fire Lord? _

"Eat this," one of her maidservants said, presenting her with a platter of green and red fruits. "It will settle your stomach."

Taemin gave the girl her most grateful look, then jammed the slices of fruit between her teeth.

The Fire Sages had each said what they'd intended to say. With some embarrassment, Taemin realized she hadn't heard a word since their opening declarations. _I should be listening. A good Fire Lord would _listen _to their people, not sit on the throne like some crybaby with a stomachache. _She made a concerted effort to focus as the next speakers came forward. She recognized them by the sigil on their cloaks—members of the Huo family. From what she recalled of her lessons, they were one of the wealthiest families in the Fire Nation, distantly related to the royal family. Her father had talked of marrying her to one of them, when she came of age.

_Now I'll have to make that decision on my own, _she thought. Right now, her newfound freedom served only to remind her that she had no close family left.

"You may wish to start thinking of what you want to say," one of her advisors said as she fought to pay attention. She didn't recognize this one, either.

"What I'm going to say?" she echoed.

The man nodded, his black ponytail bobbing up and down. "Something about how you have utmost faith in the Fire Nation, or about how we're going to win this war. Something uplifting."

_Uplifting? _she thought, staring at the man. _How can anything possibly be _uplifting _after what happened? My family is dead. The Fire Nation's at war for the first time in two centuries. What could I say to raise the spirits of these people? _"I . . . I'll think about it."

"You've got five minutes. It doesn't have to be anything too momentous."

"But . . . It's my first day as Fire Lord."

"It won't be your last. Your scribe will write you more important speeches later."

_The scribe writes the speeches? I always thought Father wrote his own speeches. _She frowned. _No, of course he did. The scribe is for me, because they don't think I have anything important to say. _"What if it is my last?"

"Hmm?"

"What if this _is _my last day as Fire Lord? What if the Earth Kingdom flies overhead and drops more bombs on us?" Her voice rose with hysteria. "What if—"

"Quiet. Do not cry in front of all these people."

She hadn't even realized her eyes were filling up with moisture. She lifted her sleeve and scrubbed away the wetness, frustrated. _Father always told me a princess must never weep . . . _

_But I _feel _like weeping, and I'm going to be Fire Lord in just a few minutes. And if I cry in front of all these people . . . _She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. _My throne. This is going to be my throne until the palace can be rebuilt, oh Agni, I'm going to have to _sit _here every day and make speeches. _Her eyelids slid shut.

_Breathe. Just breathe. Firebenders draw power from the breath. _

"Come forth, Princess Taemin, and accept your role as the new Fire Lord!" someone called. Before she realized what she was doing, she was on her feet and walking toward the front of the stage, at eye level with the tops of the remaining buildings. Other structures filled her view as she looked down—houses and shops, made of wood, lying in charred piles along the streets of her cities. Ashes dyed the rubble gray, and some still smoked from the attack, embers consuming what few particles remained to fuel them. The whole city smelled like smoke. The air itself tasted like ashes.

The stage had been brought up from one of the surviving storage areas and assembled so she would have someplace to say these words, to take this crown. It stood well above the reach of her citizens, but still, they lifted their hands as she walked downstage, as if seeking her touch—or dragging her down to the darkest parts of the Spirit World. All this was done in silence, though. Her footsteps echoed off the hollow base of the stage, seeming to reverberate through the whole plaza. Her blood sang in her ears.

"Are you ready?" the Fire Sage Haeda asked, holding the crown up for her. For a moment, she stood, lips closed as if the infernos of earlier in the day had melted them shut. Torches flickered with eerie light all around the edges of the stage, staving off the darkness brought on by the dusk. As she took the final steps to the edge of the stage, her knees locked.

"I . . . hold on," she whispered. The Fire Sage blinked in surprise, and withdrew her crown.

_I have to say something, _she thought, taking in the thousands of people who had gathered here. Their faces, their cloaks, their hair . . . All had been smeared with the ashes of the dead, tainted forever. And though her servants had scraped together a clean outfit for this ceremony, Taemin felt as if the ashes had settled into the folds of her robes.

Her advisors had told her to say something uplifting, to take the sting out of this attack, like a mother's kiss on a bruise. But that was wrong. To lessen the tragedy—to ignore the depth of the suffering it would inevitably bring—would have the opposite effect. It would say she was not serious, that she was nothing more than the mouthpiece of her advisors.

_I have to set a precedent, _she thought. _I have to do this right. _She took a deep breath. She had prepared no words—there hadn't been time—but perhaps she could think of the words now.

Thousands of eyes watched her, spots of white in the sea of gray.

Taemin took a deep breath and spoke. "My father often told me . . . A princess should never weep. And that's true. It is a princess's duty to honor her family and appear the perfect model of inner strength to her people.

"But it is a _Fire Lord's_ duty to tell their people the truth. My father _always _told the truth, for good or for ill. He did not conceal our dire trading situation with the Earth Kingdom behind pretty words. He did not flinch away when you chastised him for marrying Lady Alasane instead of a noblewoman of the Earth Kingdom. He did not pretend all was well in this nation when he knew it was not. And so, when he said a princess must never weep, I believed him!"

Her voice grew tremulous as she went on, but her audience's attention never wavered. "But my father is dead, killed in the fires of this attack. My mother, too, has perished. I cannot turn my back on all of you, nor can I conceal my grief. So watch me _now_! Watch me weep, not as a princess of the Fire Nation, but as your Fire Lord. Watch me weep for my parents, for your lost brothers and sisters, for your dead children, for your cousins and aunts and uncles! Watch me weep for the people who have burned today, and know this: _I feel your pain!_" She took a ragged breath, tears streaming down her face. And through her tears, she saw that she wasn't the only one crying. Men and women, children and elders, the healthy and the sick—all bowed their heads in sorrow, tears flooding their vision.

_This was right, _Taemin thought. _This is what my people need, not a pretty speech. _She took a step forward, then bent down, reaching below to brush her fingertips against the reaching hands of her citizens. Every face she saw was moist with tears.

Behind her, the torches glared brighter. _Is it my feeling that moves them? _she wondered. _Or are my people as a whole making the flames glow bright? _She rose from her crouch and moved her arms in an expansive gesture. "We will not forget this day! We will not forget how the Earth Kingdom has wronged us! But most importantly, we will not forget the _people_ we've lost in this attack! We will move forward, we will fight to restore the shattered peace, but we will not leave those lost souls behind. Like the immortal phoenixes of our legends, we will rise from the ashes and spread our wings over the rest of the world. _We will triumph!_"

The last exclamation stole the remainder of her breath, but it continued to echo through the plaza, new voices rising to repeat the words. Taemin's heart hammered against her ribs, her anxiety giving way to shock as the chorus rose from the lips of her people. _My words . . . They're saying my words._

"All witness the coronation of Fire Lord Taemin!" Fire Sage Haeda shouted, though his voice was lost to the calls of the crowd. Taemin felt a sudden weight on her head, just around her topknot. A circle of gold.

A new chorus rose from the crowd now, first in small, nonsensical pockets, then rising above the roar of her explanations. It wasn't until the whole plaza was chanting, though, that Taemin realized they were shouting her name.

"Taemin! Taemin! Taemin!"

_All these people, _she thought numbly, retreating inside herself as the force of the voices hit her. Her natural meekness returned, and suddenly, her throat closed up so tight, she wouldn't have been able to swallow a pea. But it didn't matter. She didn't need to say anything more.

She bowed deeply, in traditional Fire Nation style, and turned back to her throne. Her advisors were all looking at her with enigmatic expressions, but she didn't miss the awe in their faces. _I may be young, but I'm still Fire Lord. I still have my say in what goes on in this nation._

She sat down on her throne, holding her head high, just letting the tears slip down the sides of her face.

"That was wonderful, Fire Lord Taemin," one of her handmaids said, offering her a cup of tea.

_Yes, _the twelve-year-old thought, listening to the music of her name as it rang out all around her. _Wonderful. _


	12. An Avatar's Choice, and an Unlikely Ally

_Author's Notes:_

_Since this story is told from several different points of view, the timing of different passages may occasionally overlap with others. So, this first scene is taking place the same time Meira and Zelda were having their argument, and shortly before Taemin's coronation. It's a stylistic choice similar to what George R. R. Martin did with his series: A Song of Ice and Fire, if you're familiar with that. I'm expecting all the chapters to be told like this, to get the full spectrum of emotions from each of the characters, as well as their reactions to news._

* * *

><p>Chapter Twelve<p>

Ferron surfaced from his slumber as if rising through a thick fog. Half-remembered dreams clung to his mind like spidersnake webs, not all of them pleasant. Repeated over and over again were the words he didn't want to face, the news that would shatter his world forever.

As he became aware of the real world again, other thoughts surfaced in his mind. The Dai-Li had told him the Earth Kingdom had attacked the Fire Nation. Though he'd heard of the embargo, and the growing tension between the two nations, he hadn't known of the war until this morning.

But he'd dreamed of it. Before he'd heard about the first attack, he'd dreamed of the Earth Kingdom airship he'd seen last night. He'd dreamed they'd bombed the Fire Nation Capital, dreamed of the houses falling and the city being burned away.

_Is that why it felt so real? _he wondered, keeping his eyes closed as he acclimated to the real world again. He was used to feigning sleep. He did it every time he woke to the sound of Sifu Fane's voice commanding him to go to school. _Was it because I somehow dreamed the truth before it happened? Is that an Avatar thing? It's never happened to me before . . . _

The room around him was quiet, but he could feel eyes watching him, and from the faint smell of perfume, he knew he wasn't in his own room. _That's right, I passed out. Ugh. How long ago did that happen? _

After another minute, he decided to open his eyes. As he did, everyone around him let out a silent breath. He looked over to see who'd been watching him.

His mother was there, her pale brown hair sticking up from her bun. A slight smile warmed her face as she watched him awaken. Sifu Fane stood in her shadow, arms crossed. For once, though, her expression was not annoyed or impatient. That was either a very good sign, or a very bad one.

_Probably bad, _he thought, remembering this morning. He eased himself into a sitting position. "What time is it?"

"Three in the afternoon," Sifu Fane answered as his mother's eyes scanned the room for a clock. "And we have much to discuss."

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. _Three in the afternoon? I've been asleep that long? _

Sifu Fane approached, pausing to take a package of something from the table by the door. "Eat," she said, thrusting the cube toward him.

Ferron opened the wooden box. Contained within were rice balls, filled with some kind of red jam, along with room temperature fish. He pulled a pair of chopsticks from the side of the box and started shoveling food into his mouth. The rice felt sticky against his tongue.

"You remember what the Dai-Li said this morning?" his earthbending teacher checked.

"Yeah, most of it. There's a war going on."

Sifu Fane nodded. "Yes. The Earth King deployed a fleet of airships last night, to attack the Fire Nation Capital, as well as some other primary targets in the Fire Nation. The previous Fire Lord and Fire Lady have been reported dead, and their daughter is scheduled for coronation tonight."

Ferron nodded slowly. He knew little of Earth Kingdom politics, but even less of the Fire Nation.

"The Earth King is calling for all able citizens to join the war effort, and the Dai-Li are requesting your presence in New Haran. They'll come back around dusk for your decision."

His eyes widened. "I can't go to New Haran! I have responsibilities here. I have to finish school, and learn earthbending."

The black-haired woman arched one eyebrow, as if she doubted his reasons. But after a moment, she said, "I'm well aware."

"It's not . . . It's not an imperial summons, or anything, is it? I don't _have _to go, right?"

The thirty-three year old hesitated. "Well, no. But they seemed insistent."

He thought of Freya, of the young boys in the house, of the trash bins he raided regularly, and shook his head. "I don't want to go."

"You're the Avatar," she said, and his shoulders slumped. _She's going to make me go. I can't get out of this. _"And King Haran is the ruler of the Earth Kingdom. However—"

He looked up, fighting the sudden flare of hope that bloomed in his chest.

"Your authority supersedes the Earth Kingdom's government. Because you are the Avatar, you are the embodiment of all living people. It is not your duty to obey your country, as it is for myself and others who live here, but to restore peace between the nations. How you want to do that is your choice. If, for example, you thought going to war was truly the best option, it would be within your power to do so, for any country. And if you instead stood against the war, that would be within your power as well."

"And if I choose to stay in Ba Sing Se?"

The woman's face fell a bit. "That . . . would be difficult to arrange. The Dai-Li and the King would have to accept whatever course of action you choose to take, but they do not have to accept _in_action. If you elect to stay here, they will regard it as the choice of a stubborn child to avoid growing up.

"No," she went on, turning away and pacing across the length of the living room. "Staying in Ba Sing Se is not an option for you, not now. Even if you were to tell them you need to stay here so I can teach you, they would argue that there are better teachers in New Haran."

"I don't want a better teacher!" _I didn't want a teacher to start with. All I wanted . . . All I wanted was to have Freya acknowledge me. And she finally did, last night. If that warship hadn't passed overhead . . . _He stood up, setting the box of rice aside. "I don't want to leave Ba Sing Se. Not now."

"I know." Sifu Fane's eyes fell to the abandoned bento box. "But you must make some decisive decision, and you must do it before the Dai-Li return."

He floundered for a response. Surely, there had to be some reason he could give them for not leaving Ba Sing Se. For the longest time, that reason had been his need to finish school and learn earthbending. But if they were going to insist he come to New Haran to finish those, then he had no ground to stand on. He could hardly tell them he couldn't go to war because he was busy scrounging through the trash looking for scraps to supplement the gifts he received as Avatar. And if he refused to leave Freya, they would merely suggest he take her with him.

An idea occurred to him right then, and he froze where he stood. _I could take Freya with me. She could even teach me earthbending. We could leave this place, go someplace where there's no war._

Sifu Fane watched him with shrewd eyes. He looked down. "Is there any way I could have a couple hours to think about this, alone?"

His teacher's stare didn't waver, but her shoulders sunk a little. "Perhaps that's for the best. Don't leave the city."

He bowed, as formally as he knew how. After all, if he followed the thread of a plan he'd conceived, this might be the last time he ever saw his earthbending teacher again. "Thank you, Sifu Fane."

She returned the bow. "You may not be an expert at your element, but you weren't the worst student I've ever had."

He smiled. That was as close to a compliment as his teacher had ever come.

He made a quick detour to his room, where he dumped out the contents of his backpack. He found his cache of the money he kept tucked away in the bottom of an old folder, and shoved it into one of the smaller pockets of his bag. The large pockets he filled with clothes and, after a moment of hesitation, earthbending scrolls. Sure, he'd never been good with his natural element, but if Sifu Fane wasn't going to be there to teach him . . . _I'll have to find food on the way, _he thought, tucking a water bottle into the side pocket.

He slung his backpack over his shoulders and took a deep breath, bracing himself to appear composed. Then he stepped out of his bedroom and walked over to the door, grabbing the remains of the bento box on his way out.

Ferron moved quickly through the streets, knowing that the longer he lingered near his house of seventeen years, the more likely it was that the Dai-Li would see him as they returned to check in. _It will be a long time before I come back here, _he thought, passing over a fallen section of the wall. Hidden behind an old tea shop, not even rudimentary repairs had been done on this section. Chunks of the wall were strewn about the ground, not even removed to clear space for walking. Ferron seldom took this route, unless he meant to check on a specific trash bins for scraps, but no one would be looking for him here.

The yellow-shingled house rose up from the street, more distinct for its color than its state of disrepair. Before he was even at the door, Pickpocket and Bird came running out.

"Ferron, did you hear?" Bird asked, clutching his pan flute to his chest. "The Earth King dropped bombs all over the Fire Nation."

"I heard," he said quickly, not wanting to linger too much on that point when he had more important considerations. "Is everybody inside?"

"Smiles and Stone-skip are still at school," Pickpocket said, putting his hands in his pockets. "Why? You need something?"

"I need to talk to everyone."

Pickpocket arched one eyebrow, and Ferron could almost see the gears turning away in his mind. Of all the boys who lived here, Pickpocket was probably the smartest. He understood how things worked, and where to find food when winter set in. But most of all, he understood people. "You're leaving, aren't you?"

Ferron flinched as if the words had been a blow. Pickpocket sank back against the wall, his grey eyes never wavering from Ferron's face.

The Avatar looked down at his feet. "Yes. I'm leaving Ba Sing Se."

Bird, only nine years old despite his proficiency with the pan flute, gave a little squeak. "You _can't _just leave!"

He knelt down to meet the boy at eye level. "I'm leaving Ba Sing Se. I don't have a choice."

Bird's face dissolved into a pout. "No!"

"For which side?" Pickpocket asked.

"Huh?"

"Which side of the war are you fighting for? The Earth Kingdom or the Fire Nation?"

Ferron looked away. He didn't have an answer to that. It was silent for a few moments.

Pickpocket sighed. "I'll tell the brats your leaving. Anything else you want me to pass on?"

"Yeah. There's this really great trash bin up by the old palace. Tourists come and go there all the time, and they don't care about wasting food. And um . . . Tell Smiles and Stone-skip to stay in school, okay? They're good kids."

Pickpocket nodded.

"And also . . ." He hesitated, not sure how to go on. He'd been coming here every day for so long. Abandoning this place to travel abroad, leaving all the younger kids here to fend for themselves, being unable to see them for individual goodbyes . . . It killed him.

_Yesterday, I was practicing my earthbending with Sifu Fane, _he thought. _I was digging out of garbage cans to find scraps for these guys. I was talking to Freya, and she was talking back to me . . . How could so much change in a day?_

The nineteen-year-old was still waiting for him to finish. Ferron raised his eyes to look at the other boy. "Thank you, for taking me in back then. I would've died if you hadn't."

Pickpocket shrugged. "It's no big thing."

"It was. I owe you more than I can ever repay."

The other boy's face softened a little bit. "It's not about paying someone back. What this place is, what we do here . . . We look for the people we used to be, people with different faces and different families, but going through the same shit we did when we were younger. So I won't ask you to pay be back for what I did that day, just . . . When you find someone like you used to be . . ."

Ferron nodded. "I understand." He bowed ceremoniously, as he might to the Earth King himself. It was not a gesture the kids who lived here used often, and it clearly affected the other two. Bird hesitated a few seconds before mirroring the gesture. Pickpocket stared at him, eyes wide with some indecipherable emotion. Just as Ferron began to wonder if the older man was just going to stand there, Pickpocket's feet came together and he bowed.

"You'll always have a place here, Ferron. No matter what."

"Thank you."

He turned and ran toward the upper ring, not allowing himself another second to look back. He didn't have to knock on Freya's door, though. She was already standing on the porch.

"Freya, have you heard?"

She turned to him, and he saw the liquid shining in her brown eyes. He froze, feeling as if his feet were trapped in the earth below.

"Ferron," she said thickly, stepping forward. "The Earth Kingdom's at war."

"I know. That's why I'm here." He looked around to make sure neither of her parents were within earshot, then leaned forward. "I want you to leave Ba Sing Se with me."

Her head jerked up, as if the words had been a slap. "You want me to _what_?"

"To leave Ba Sing Se, before they turn it into a military base."

Freya blinked, her eyes drying up. "Ferron, I can't just run off with you. My parents are already packing. We're taking a train to New Haran first thing tomorrow."

Ferron flinched as if he'd just been punched in the gut. He felt worse than if he had. _New Haran? _he thought numbly, arms snaking around his torso as if that would hold him together. _She's leaving for New Haran? Why? Because the King wants the noble families close? Because she doesn't want to go with me? _"Why?"

"To support the war effort, of course."

If her tone hadn't shocked him into silence, the words would have. He opened his mouth, his first instinct to launch a sharp retort back, then closed it again as he remembered who he was talking to. He looked down.

"The Earth Kingdom has more people and greater resources," Freya said. "We'll stamp out the Fire Nation before the year is done with, then I'll be back in Ba Sing Se."

He gaped. "You can't mean—You—You're _supporting _this war?"

"I'm supporting the Earth Kingdom," Freya said, as if this was the most reasonable statement in the world. In the moments it took for Ferron to collect himself, she went on. "I won't pretend war is pretty, or right. But we're going to war regardless of my opinion, and if I have to choose a side, it'll be my country."

"Why do you have to choose a side? Why don't you just protest the war? Have you _seen _the condition of this city? The king doesn't care about us!"

It was Freya's turn to be speechless. Ferron fumbled through his plan, trying to show her why she couldn't stay here. "Don't you see, Freya? This war is pointless. The king isn't doing it because the Fire Nation provoked us—he's doing it because he's greedy and wants more land, or resources, or whatever. You should come with me so we can protest this war. I'm the Avatar. People will listen to me!"

Her voice rose with shock. "How could you say such a thing? These are my people! This is my home! I have to defend it, and I can't do that if I'm running around with you trying to pretend this war isn't happening."

He recoiled from the words, from the sudden pain in his heart. _She won't go . . . _he thought numbly. _She means it. She won't abandon the Earth Kingdom. _The world seemed to tilt half a degree, sending his mind into a downward spiral. He staggered back.

"I'm sorry, Ferron," she said, and her voice was quiet again. Controlled. "But I won't go with you."

His body swayed drunkenly, and he wrapped his arms around his torso in an attempt to fight off the sudden coldness he felt inside.

Without a conscious thought, he turned and fled the garden, almost tripping on the fingers of ivy strewn across the path. His vision blurred with tears, hot and humiliating as they ran down his face. Twice, his toes caught on some unnoticed fault in the streets, and he tumbled forward, scraping the palms of his hands as he smashed into the rock. The pain of his raw hands failed to cover up the pain of his shredded heart.

Ferron staggered through the streets of Ba Sing Se, moving indiscriminately through all three rings. People paid him little mind. Many were still distraught with the news of the war, and some were already busy with their preparations. Lines had formed outside shops that seldom saw business. People walked out of the marketplace bearing canned fruits and vegetables instead of the usual, three-day old ones. Store shelves grew barren, and shops closed altogether as the demand outstripped their supply. Ferron saw all of this, yet his mind registered little.

Freya wasn't coming with him.

Slowly, the sunlight faded from the sky. Ferron had a disjointed thought about returning home and going with the Dai-Li to New Haran. _She_ would be there, she'd said so. She'd forgive him for his stupidity once she saw him there, supporting the war effort.

_Or maybe she'd mock you for being so indecisive, _he thought bitterly as he tripped over an uneven section of the street. This time, it was almost a minute before he sat up. His legs were sore from walking. _After all, everyone knows you are. That's why you suck at earthbending. Sifu Fane might as well have said as much. She probably did, and you just weren't paying attention . . . _His eyes, clear for a moment as another pair of tears slipped free of them, traced tiny cracks in the dirt, finding patterns in the street. For a few minutes, his mind seemed to shut off. He couldn't focus on anything—not the Dai-Li, not Freya, not Pickpocket or Bird or the others. He just sat there and felt numb.

"Look at you, crying in the middle of the street like a little kid."

Ferron raised his eyes to see Terrin towering over him. The other boy's arms were crossed in front of his chest, and he was leaning back slightly, looking as if he owned the world. Ferron looked down.

Terrin nudged him with his foot. "Hey, I'm talking to you."

"Fuck off."

"Jeez, you're such a baby. Quit crying over the news. You can't stop the Earth Kingdom from going to war."

_No, _he thought. _I can't. _

Terrin stood there a moment more, as if waiting for some reply. Then he started circling Ferron, moving with the unconscious grace of an athlete. "I always knew you were weak, but I didn't think you were so pathetic. Must suck to be the Avatar when you can't do shit."

"Shut up."

"What are you going to do about the war? Going to act all valiant and suck up to the king?" The bully chuckled to himself, pausing in his deliberate walk. "Of course not. You'll probably just run off. That's all you're good for."

"Shut up . . ."

"Or is it something else? You've run away from a lot of things, haven't you? Such a shame, really. You'd think having the Avatar born into your nation in a time of strife would give you a fighting edge. I'd like to see the king's face when he realizes just how pathetic—"

Ferron shot to his feet, fist flying forward without a conscious command. It smashed into Terrin's jaw with such force that it knocked the other boy's head back. He recoiled, clutching his bloody nose. "Shut up!" Ferron screamed, his other arm shooting forward. His fist caught Terrin high in the shoulder, knocking him into a wall. Ferron pressed his advantage. "You've treated me like shit since the day we met, and I'm _sick _of it. I am the fucking Avatar. People have respected me for thousands of years, through hundreds of lifetimes. Where do you get the nerve to walk all over me?"

Terrin had recovered sufficiently to fight back. The boy's fist spiraled as it shot forward, slamming into Ferron's abdomen. The Avatar doubled over, bile rising to the back of his throat. His hand snaked out automatically as something moved in his peripheral vision, but the block came too late. Terrin's fist caught him square in the eye.

The world spun sickeningly as the twin pains overwhelmed him. Before he could process anything, his back hit the inside of Ba Sing Se's outer ring. "How did a loser like you become the Avatar, huh?" Terrin demanded. "What gave you the right? Your mother was a whore. Your father is nonexistent. You suck at your natural element. What right do you have to be the peacemaker between the nations?"

Ferron glared up at the bully, wishing through the haze of pain that he was skilled enough to bury him six feet underground.

"You want to know why people treat you like shit, Ferron? It's because you let them. It's because you're weak, and you're easy to hurt, and you don't make any effort not to be." Terrin snatched the front of his shirt and yanked him closer. "I hate people like you more than I hate any other kind of person. And _you_ got to be the Avatar? What the hell is that? With you being the Avatar, the Earth Kingdom's lost their fighting edge. The war is going to drag on and on because they couldn't rely on your strength. More and more people are going to die because you were born weak and you did nothing to change it. So don't bitch at me for walking all over you."

Terrin released his shirt and stepped back. Ferron retreated half a step, leaning against the wall as he tried to sort through the different pains in his body. Just as Terrin was turning to walk away, he spoke. "Maybe the reason I was born weak was so that, when the Earth Kingdom went to war, they wouldn't be able to use me as a weapon."

The other boy's hands clenched into fists. His eyes were like flint. "Then what are you going to do?"

_Run away, _Ferron thought, shoulders stiffening as he realized that was exactly what he was being accused of. He took a deep breath, trying to think through his tangled emotions. _No, he's right about that. I can't just run away from this problem. I have to do something about it. _He exhaled. "I'm leaving Ba Sing Se. I'm going to fight for peace."

Terrin's lips twitched up into a mutilated smile. "Peace? You're going to sue for peace?"

He nodded stiffly. "People will listen to me. People who want to oppose the war, but won't speak for themselves. People who are weak like me, but will grow strong knowing I'm with them."

The other boy threw him a look of amused surprise. "Huh. That's pretty smart for you." He wiped the crusty, brown blood from his lip and shrugged. "I'm in."

Ferron stared at him, derailed. "What?"

"I'm in," Terrin repeated, rolling his eyes as if he'd just answered the single most obvious question in the world. "I'm going with you."

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"My dad wants me to enlist. Get myself killed on the front lines, or burned up by some fucking firebender, or whatever. But I've never listened to a thing he's said to me—why start now?"

Ferron said nothing.

"Might as well follow you. I mean, if you really _are_ the Avatar, I'm sure you can get us right in the thick of the action. Might even get us a few perks, like decent food instead of that dried shit they feed the soldiers."

"You've got to be shitting me," Ferron said.

Terrin shrugged. "Whatever. Go without me then. You'll die of starvation within the month."

Ferron bristled, but couldn't think of a decent counterargument. He'd barely been able to survive inside the city walls—what hope would he have in the wilderness? "Wait. Are you saying you want to travel with _me_ to wherever it takes to stop this war?"

"That's what I'm saying, moron. Thought that was obvious."

Ferron glowered at the other boy for a long moment, then sunk back against the wall. Without really knowing why he did it, he said, "Fine. Meet me at the Red Gate in an hour."


	13. Converging Paths

_Author's Notes:_

_Now that Legend of Korra has premiered, I will be referencing certain events and customs of that story. At some point, I'll go back and correct the first twelve chapters for inconsistencies, but from this point on, I will be using Legend of Korra in addition to the original series._

* * *

><p>Chapter Thirteen<p>

"Aren't you supposed to have some sort of animal guide, or something?"

Ferron sighed, glancing over his shoulder. The Red Gate cast a long shadow behind them. At a distance, when one couldn't see the crumbling corners and inch-wide cracks, it was a grand structure. From what Ferron knew of Ba Sing Se's history, it had been erected shortly after his birth.

Instead of feeling secure from years of familiarity, he found the towering gate unsettling. What if one of the gatekeepers saw them through their binoculars? What if they recognized him as the Avatar? _I'd be back in Ba Sing Se, under guard, for the rest of the war, _he thought.

"Hey, idiot, I'm talking to you."

"I never got around to it, okay?" he snapped in response to Terrin's earlier query. "My mother wanted me to get an eel hound, but Sifu Fane said they were too difficult to train." _And too expensive to feed._

Terrin snorted. "Bet you were just too scared to go near one."

Ferron glanced up at the rust-painted sky, wishing this day would end already. "Look, we don't have one, so we're going to walk. If you're not okay with that, then go ahead on your own."

"Like hell. You need me."

"I didn't ask you to come along." _But he's probably right, _a small part of his mind piped up. _You're a terrible bender. Luck and status will only carry you so far. _His stomach rumbled; he clamped his arm around his belly to stifle the sound, his face flushing red. He'd already finished the bento he'd brought along and, as far as he knew, there wasn't a grocery store or farmer's market for miles, now that he was out of the city.

Terrin gave him an odd look, arching one eyebrow. Ferron forced his arm away from his abdomen and tightened the straps of his backpack.

"So where are we going?" Terrin asked a moment later, turning his attention back toward the path.

During the hour they'd been walking, Ferron had contemplated several possible locations. The Fire Nation was out—participating in the opposite side of the war would be just as counterproductive as fighting for the Earth Kingdom. The water tribes and their outlying colonies were too far away. There was only one place he could think to go. "Republic City. The cultural diversity will force them to take a neutral stance on the war. I'll be able to find bending teachers there."

"You planning on mastering all four elements?"

"I have to."

"Didn't think you would," Terrin muttered.

Ferron said nothing, kicking a rock out of his way. It bounced several feet, propelled by nothing more than the force of the impact. On the next pass, he tried to put some energy behind it, using his limited earthbending skill to make it go farther. Even then, it went only a few feet more. Defeat crept over him. When he passed the stone again, he made no attempts to move it.

The sky darkened, turning the sea of orange to deep blue as the sun sank beneath the horizon. All the stresses of the day clamped down on his shoulders like lead weights. The war, Freya's refusal to accompany him, leaving his home, leaving his friends . . . And now his hunger, drilling a deep pit in his stomach. _I've gone to bed hungry before, _he reminded himself. _I can do it tonight._

"This is as far as we go tonight," Ferron said, stopping. He looked up, half-expecting his unwanted companion to accuse him of his weakness. Instead, the earthbender stomped on the path and brought a curved ridge of rock from the ground. Stone walls reached up, curling in around the top to form a ceiling. Terrin tossed his bedroll into the makeshift shelter as Ferron looked on in envy.

Terrin laid his backpack on the ground next to his bedroll, then sat down on the thin mattress. At once, he started pulling things from his bag—blankets, a metal water bottle, a change of clothes for tomorrow. When he pulled a bag of dried traveling cakes from his pack, Ferron turned away.

"What, you're not going to eat?"

"Not hungry," he lied.

There was a pause. The earthbender made a sound of disgust. "Idiot."

Ferron sat down in the corner of the shelter, as far from his companion as he could get in the small space. He pulled a sleeping bag from his backpack—he'd snuck in through his bedroom window to retrieve it before he'd left Ba Sing Se, realizing he'd forgotten to pack it. As he unrolled the dusty sleeping bag, he wondered what other essentials he'd forgotten. He laid down, facing away from Terrin.

"So you're really not going to eat?"

"No."

Terrin sighed. "You're weak enough. Don't let hunger make you weaker."

"I don't need your handouts," he said coldly.

Several seconds passed in silence before Terrin spoke again. "Whatever. _I'm _going to eat."

Ferron closed his eyes.

* * *

><p>"That was <em>exceptional<em>," her advisor gushed, walking beside her as they passed through the line of guards separating Taemin from her people. "Truly, one of the best coronation speeches I've ever heard."

Taemin's eyes flashed to the outstretched hands of her citizens. The declarations she'd made at her coronation speech continued to ring throughout the crowd, but now that the adrenaline was fading from her system, they sounded strange to her ears, as if she couldn't possibly have said them.

_I just declared war on the Earth Kingdom, _she thought numbly, the blood slithering out of her face. Beside her, the nearest court advisor prattled on. "Now we're going to a nice little place, just outside the Capital City. Your parents had a shelter prepared earlier this year, when the strains on our nation became evident."

"I know," she said quietly.

Her advisor looked at her with something akin to shock, as if he'd believed she'd neglected to pay attention to royal affairs. "Yes, well . . . In any case, the Earth Kingdom is unaware of this little retreat, so I expect you'll be safe there. You'll return here tomorrow for your parents' funeral."

She nodded, almost slipping on a pile of ash. Distantly, she wondered whose remains she was stepping on.

"Fire Lady Taemin?" one of her handmaids asked. "Are you unwell?"

She swallowed the lump rising in her throat. "I'm fine. I just . . . It's been a long night."

Her handmaid smiled. "It's been a long night for all of us."

Taemin wished she knew the woman's name. Her usual handmaid had run off during the eclipse in search of her mother. Since she hadn't reappeared in the intervening time, Taemin could only assume she was dead.

She looked ahead, focusing on the people sweeping debris out of their path. Evidently, they'd seen her near-slip, because now they were sweeping piles of ash out of the way along with everything else. Beads of sweat dotted their foreheads with the increased intensity of their work.

"Is there anything I can get for you, Lady Taemin?" her handmaid asked. "Something to drink, something to eat?"

Her eyes flickered to the tray of offered foods, then to the outstretched hands of her people. The Royal Guard pushed them back, keeping them from touching her. Their hands reminded her of the hands of beggars, reaching for money they didn't truly believe would come their way.

If Taemin had been hungry, those empty hands would've dispelled her hunger. If she had been thirsty, they would have robbed her of the ability to drink. "I want you and the other servants to set up a feast for the people of this city," she said.

"My Lady?"

"I want you to speak with the event planner and invite all those who have lost their homes and family members to the feast."

"My Lady, I'm afraid an undertaking of that scale—"

"Do it," she rasped, her throat raw with the tears that had escaped during her coronation. "I will not watch my city suffer and starve while I am offered delicacies. If you cannot do it, consult with whoever can and make sure it gets done."

Her handmaid wilted. "Yes, my Lady. I will do it at once."

The woman left her side. Taemin exhaled, vision blurring with unshed tears.

"Lady Taemin," her advisor said. "I do not think this is wise. You are the last surviving member of the central royal family. We do not wish to lose you to starvation or sickness when we have already lost your parents. I advise you reconsider until we can take more accurate stock of our food stores."

"I will not reconsider."

"Lady Taemin—"

"I will not reconsider!" She stalked forward, her blood pulsing painfully in her ears. She approached the sweepers at the front of their procession. "Clear only debris that will block our path. I will walk over the rest."

Uncertainly, they retreated, holding their brooms and baskets close to their bodies.

"Lady Taemin, this is a rash, childish decision—"

She glanced back at her advisor. _Be strong. Don't cry. Don't show weakness. _"What's your name?"

He hesitated. "Yaku, of the Senshi family."

"Yaku, I know your role commands you to advise me, but please, allow me to feel my people's pain. If I hope to rule them, I must first understand their position."

He fell back half a step, lowering his head. "Yes, my Lady."

"She truly is a queen, isn't she?" one of her other handmaids said, a brittle smile appearing on her face.

_Yes, _Taemin thought. _Once I was just a princess, but today I am a queen._

* * *

><p>Meira surveyed the maps, and for the first time, she was glad her father had insisted on teaching her the basics of navigation. She pointed to the place on the map where she thought they were. "The pirates intended to sell us to the Fire Nation, but we can't be too far in their territory given how little time we spent on their ship."<p>

Zelda nodded, massaging the swollen patch on her face where the pirates had struck her.

"The easiest path would be to hop our way across this archipelago to Republic City."

"You want me to find a firebending teacher _there_?"

Meira nodded. "It's the safest place for you, with the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation at war."

"But isn't it right between the two?"

The waterbender's eyebrows came together. She hadn't considered that. "Well . . . Yes, but Republic City is neutral—they have to be, multicultural as they are." She frowned, looking again to that position on the map. Republic City _was _sandwiched right between Ba Sing Se and the Fire Nation Capital. _An attack on New Haran would be more devastating than an attack on Ba Sing Se, though, _she thought, her eyes drifting south of Ba Sing Se's place on the map. New Haran had been erected early in King Haran's reign and blossomed into one of the most flourishing cities in the world since its birth thirty-five years ago. From what Meira had read, the new city had been so successful, older strongholds like Ba Sing Se had fallen into disrepair. _Yes, it would be a greater blow to the Earth Kingdom to lose New Haran, _she thought. _But Ba Sing Se would be an easier target._

"I don't think anyone will attack Republic City," Meira said. "There would be no point."

"But Republic City is going to be _filled _with refugees," her sister argued.

"Zelda, we _are _refugees, until we can return to the Northern Water Tribe. And if you want to find a firebending teacher, I'd much rather you go there than get killed in the Fire Nation."

Fire flared between Zelda's knuckles. "My people are getting killed in the Fire Nation _now_."

Meira sighed; she wasn't having this argument again. "You agreed to stay out of trouble, however you can. This is how I'm helping you do that."

"Fine. But I don't have to like it."

The waterbender rolled up the map and tucked in back into her bag. "We're headed east. Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah." Zelda stood, walking stiffly toward the shore. Meira took a deep breath, lifting her arms. A block of ice rose from the temperate water, large enough to hold both of them plus their belongings. Zelda climbed on top of the floating mass, sliding toward the center. Meira followed, adjusting the shape of their raft with a few subtle waterbending motions. Once she was ready, she brought a rush of seawater around their raft and pushed them out to sea.

"How long will it take to get there?"

"I don't know," Meira said. "A week maybe? We made pretty good time between the North Pole and the edge of the Earth Kingdom. Even if we _were_ captured by pirates."

Zelda nodded. "That's enough time for the Fire Nation to strike back. We might see troops on our way there."

"We might. Are you expecting to get a ride to Republic City, or something?"

"I'm saying we should steer clear of them until we can get a better feel for what's going on."

The strategy behind that statement surprised the waterbender. It was several seconds before she could formulate a reply. "You think they might be dangerous to us?"

"I think they might mistake us for spies. Until we can get proper documentation and information, we need to stay away from anyone involved with the war." She drew her legs in so she could rest her chin on her knees. "Think about it. We're two young women. Sharp minds will skip right past the possibility that we're damsels in distress to the possibility that we were sent as spies from the Earth Kingdom."

"Then I'll just show them I'm a waterbender, and everything will be fine."

"But if I'm a firebender, and I was born into the Northern _Water_ Tribe, then there's definitely mixed children in the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom. It wouldn't be so farfetched for either side to say we're spies of their enemies. In fact, waterbenders would be the _first _people I would send out, if only for the fact that soldiers would be less inclined to harm someone not obviously belonging to the enemy's ranks."

"Right," Meira agreed.

"So until we can contact Father and have him send us papers declaring ourselves as people of the Northern Water Tribe, we have to avoid being accused as spies."

"You have a point."

"Of course I do. I have to, if I ever want to beat you."

Meira grinned. Though her own waterbending abilities had been the pride of the family, Zelda's quick wit and analytical ability had earned her a position as heiress in her own right. _If she'd been born a waterbender, she would've been the perfect heiress, _Meira thought, pushing them over the waves. _But as it stands now, she's right. The Northern Water Tribe wouldn't accept her as leader unless I endorsed it. And even then . . . _She looked at Zelda's pale skin, the smooth lines of her heart-shaped face, the dark brown hair clinging to her scalp. Zelda might've been born into her family, but she definitely had the appearance of a firebender. And as much as Meira hated herself for thinking it, there were people in the village who go against Zelda if she tried to rule. _What must it be like, to be so out of place? _

"Why are we slowing down?" Zelda asked.

Meira realized her movements had turned sluggish in her abstraction. "Sorry." She sped up, pushing their raft through the choppy waters even as her mind quaked under the turbulence of her thoughts.

Slowly, the sun set.

* * *

><p>General Shaio straightened the collar of his uniform, tracing the gold button with his thumb. He'd been waiting almost an hour for King Haran to call him in, and his careful self-control was beginning to yield to irritation.<p>

_Patience, _he told himself. _A general must always exude patience and confidence. _He unclasped the button on his collar, then refastened it, glancing in the mirror to make sure his uniform was in good condition.

Just as he was about to unbutton his uniform again, one of the king's men called him into the throne room. General Shaio squared his shoulders and followed after the young servant, keeping his face expressionless as he surveyed the area.

The king's grandson sat at the foot of the throne, assembling a tower of blocks that tumbled every few seconds. As Shaio watched, the child stomped on the ground and sent one of the stone blocks flying up into the air. _A bit y__oung to be earthbending, _Shaio thought. _But what else can one expect from the royal line?_

A man of about twenty-five stepped away from the wall, kneeling down beside the boy and speaking to him in hushed tones. In the quiet room, Shaio overheard the man lecturing the child about self-control. The young boy frowned and made some unintelligible reply, which the man answered with a smile.

It was the look of adoration on the man's face that allowed Shaio to make the connection. Not only was he getting an audience with King Haran and his grandson, but also one of the two surviving princes of the Earth Kingdom.

He approached the throne and bowed. "It is an honor to be summoned, Your Grace."

King Haran addressed him. "General Shaio. My little birds have told me your plan was successful."

"Yes, Your Grace. The Earth Kingdom air force decimated several key cities in the Fire Nation, their Capital among them."

"So I've been told," King Haran said emptily. "Yet there remains a problem."

His shoulders tensed. "I was not aware we had left something unfinished."

King Haran ignored him, standing up and walking over to his grandson. With a movement that belied his old age, he bent down and scooped the boy up. The child's feet dangled, flailing in the empty air. "You see this child, General Shaio?"

"Yes, Your Grace," he said, trying to guess where the king was going with this.

"One day, after I pass, my son will take the throne. And when he passes, this little child will take it." King Haran set his grandson on the floor again. The boy wandered off and stomped on the ground, bringing his half-finished stack of blocks tumbling down. "Do you understand what that means?"

General Shaio seldom felt anxiety, but he couldn't have denied it now, as his lungs seemed to collapse in on themselves. In a shaky voice, he said, "I'm afraid I don't take your meaning."

King Haran took several steps to the side, pacing. "How unfortunate. I will simply tell you then." He turned, staring down at Shaio from his pedestal. "The Fire Lord and his Fire Lady perished during the bombing. However, their twelve-year-old daughter remains alive, and is being carted off to some unknown location, likely to ensure her safety. Now, you may not think a twelve-year-old would have the power to bring down a nation—nor do I wish to believe such a thing—but stranger things have happened. During Sozin's War, Avatar Aang stripped Fire Lord Ozai of his bending and ended the fighting. He was twelve."

Shaio swallowed thickly.

King Haran went on. "I will not allow this Fire Nation princess, however weak or pampered she may appear, to live long enough to destroy us. As the Earth King, I must take action. And because I cannot afford to leave New Haran to annihilate the girl and her ilk, I must send one of my most trusted hands to slay her for me."

"Your Grace?" Shaio's voice wavered with uncertainty, and he cursed himself for his weakness.

"General Shaio, you devised and executed the assault on the Fire Nation. I would trust no one else with this task." He paused, looking to his son, then his grandson. His piercing gold eyes returned to Shaio a moment later. "It is an unpalatable option, and I expect you to be discrete. But by the next turn of the moon, I want Fire Lady Taemin to be dead and buried."

Killing children had never been part of his orders, though Shaio supposed plenty had died on the Day of Black Sun. Even so, he had never slain a child so young with his own hands.

"Do you accept these orders?"

General Shaio hesitated. But only for a moment. "Yes, Your Grace. It will be done."


	14. Cracks Under the Surface

Chapter Fourteen

"The Generals are meeting now," said her advisor, Yaku. The court scribe typed furiously, fingers dancing over the metal keys. "They're devising defense strategies in case the Earth Kingdom tries to strike again, along with several offensive tactics for the time when we're ready to invade. Other members of our court are calculating losses. The Capital appears to have been the focal point of the attack; however, there were several other major cities struck down, including several port cities such as those on Obsidian Island and Whale-Tail Island. There are reports of several smaller targets burning on the Day of Black Sun, but whether this is a direct result of the bombings or a product of the panic it caused, we can't say." Yaku glanced up.

Taemin inclined her head in his direction, telling him to continue.

"Regarding the subject of our resources, we have . . . Hmm . . . Enough factories and industrial areas to supply us with ample capacity to retaliate. Our quarries, however, may be limited in their production. Many were destroyed by the Earth Kingdom's peripheral forces, the miners along with them. Repairs may take the rest of the year, and that's without taking into account the lack of manpower we have at hand."

Timidly, Taemin opened her mouth to speak. It shocked her when Yaku immediately fell silent; she hesitated. "Is there any way we can fill the gaps left by the deceased workers?" she choked out.

Yaku exchanged glances with the other advisors. Like rushing water, their overlapping suggestions filled the room. Taemin leaned forward, almost falling out of her too-large chair. Though this place didn't have all the luxuries of the palace, it still sported a prominent throne room, featuring a platform ringed with flames. _Of course they'd put _me _up here, _she thought, forcing herself back into the velvet cushions. _One bad fall, and I'll light my face on fire._

The conversation between her advisors faded away. "I apologize, Fire Lady Taemin," Yaku said. "But until we have more accurate casualty counts, we cannot make any moves to fill such roles. There are more important positions to fill. It's unwise to focus on this one area."

Her resolve died. With an effort, she forced her posture to remain regal, just as her father had taught her. _Though Father is dead now . . . _"Very well," she said quietly. "We will wait. What can we do _now_?"

"Well, there is the matter of the Earth Kingdom families within our borders."

She blinked. "The . . . I don't understand."

Yaku spoke slowly, as if speaking to a toddler. "Peace has reigned for many years now. As a result, there are many immigrants from the Earth Kingdom within our borders."

She nodded, waiting for him to go on.

"Lady Taemin, what do you propose we do with them?"

"_Do _with them? Are they not our citizens?"

Yaku caught the nature of her argument from her tone. "Yes, but . . . Many of them are earthbenders, or closely related to earthbenders. You cannot imagine they'll be accepted by our people so easily while we're at war."

"Are you saying we should extend some special protection to them?" she asked, trying to figure out where her advisors were going with this.

Yaku hesitated, then said, "May I have a few minutes to discuss this with the other advisors?"

Her eyebrows came together, but after hours of sitting, she was eager to stretch her legs. "Discuss it here. I'm going outside." She jumped down from the throne and hurried down the steps, being careful not to let her oversized robes touch the flames. Her Royal Guard oriented themselves around her, as if an assassin was just going to explode through the window and put a bullet in her back.

There was a door to the garden on the north side of the room. Taemin approached it, listening back as the advisors spoke amongst themselves. Several families' names came up, none of which she knew. _How am I supposed to find time to study when I'm expected to preside over court all day? I can't look like a fool in front of these people, not when the Fire Nation needs me. _Her teeth sunk into her lower lip.

"Admiral Rozen," she said, stepping outside. Sunlight glared at her from the west—a formal funeral service would be held for her parents later tonight, once it was dark enough for a funeral pyre.

"Yes, my Lady?" The brown-haired woman lifted her visor so Taemin could see her face.

"What are they talking about back there?"

A strange look crossed Rozen's face. "They are discussing what will be done about Earth Kingdom families within our borders."

"Yes, but what are they suggesting? They can't think we have enough forces to give each family personal guards, can they?"

A grim mask covered Rozen's face. "No. I cannot imagine they'll do any such thing."

"Then what are they planning?"

Admiral Rozen turned to her, removing her helm. Her dark hair unfurled in waves down her armor. "Lady Taemin, I have little training in political matters, so please, do not think my guesses are to be given much weight."

"I'd like to hear them."

Rozen's eyes flitted back to the door. It closed with a sound of finality. "I think they intend to expel any earthbenders and their families from this nation."

Taemin blinked. "That's impossible."

"It's been done before. Six-hundred years ago—in the border clash between our nation and the Earth Kingdom, referred to now as 'the Storm of Burning Stones.' Three-hundred square miles of land, right between the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation. When we triumphed, we expelled or executed every earthbender remaining in the conquered territory."

"So you're saying they're going to do that now, after six-_hundred _years?"

"I am merely saying there is precedent. I do not wish to use such methods, but as the Fire Lord, you have a duty to consider all options in order to win this war."

"I won't allow it," Taemin said, turning away and stalking across the garden. It was tiny compared to the palace gardens, and had no turtle-duck pond.

"As you wish, Lady Taemin."

Fire crawled to her fingertips, flaring there and warming the air around her fists. _I must stay in control, _she told herself, closing her eyes and calling calming images to her mind: a beach glittering with obsidian shards; a turtle-duck swimming up to her feet to pluck bread crumbs from her outstretched hands; her mother, Lady Alasane, coming to her chambers to tuck her in. But when she imagined her mother opening the music box to lull her to sleep, the image glowed orange around the edges, and she saw only fire.

"I want to go back to the palace," she said.

"The funeral will not be held until later tonight. Until we've made sure you'll be safe from assassins, we can't go," Admiral Rozen said.

Taemin's shoulders slumped. _I want to go home, _she thought. _I don't want to be in this wretched place anymore. I want to go home . . . _

She sat down on the grass, letting the cool blades tickle her fingers. Slowly, she exhaled, just as Sifu Xaris had taught her. _No one's mentioned him since the attack, _she thought. _He's probably dead._

Smoke rose between her fingertips in elegant tendrils. After a moment, the grass next to her hands flared to life. The sudden rush of heat brought her out of her grief long enough to yank her hand away.

"My Lady!" one of her guards called, rushing to her aid. Taemin stared at her reddened hand with growing horror, the pain registering in her mind. Tears blurred her vision.

"Get a medic!" someone ordered.

"Lady Taemin, are you all right?"

The tears rolled freely down her face now, a display of weakness visible to the world. Hastily, she turned her face to the ground, dragging her sleeve across her eyes. "Leave me be," she said. "I will accept treatment, but leave me be."

Her Royal Guard hesitated. She was about to give the order a third time when they fell into two neat rows behind her back. She exhaled, purposely letting a tongue of flame shoot out of her lips. _I must remain in control of myself. I must not cry again without purpose. _

A door opened behind her—the one leading back into the temporary throne room. In seconds, a blue-eyed woman knelt by her side, a bowl of water in her hands. From the woman's pale skin and sharp features, Taemin guessed she was second- or third-generation Fire Nation, but descended from one of the water tribes. _What will we do with all the mixed families in this country? _Taemin wondered, thinking back to her last moments in the temporary throne room. _And what am I going to do if my advisors want to expel them from the Fire Nation? _

"Hold out your hand, please," the waterbender said, dipping her fingers in the clear liquid and pulling it from the bowl. Unaccustomed to taking orders, Taemin hesitated. After a few seconds, though, the lingering sting of her burn forced her to obey. The water glowed where it touched her skin, cleansing the wound, healing it, knitting flesh together. Water, the antidote to fire.

It gave her an idea.

"Admiral Rozen, summon my advisors to the garden. Tell them it is a matter of utmost importance."

"Yes, my Lady." Admiral Rozen strode into the throne room, one hand on the hilt of her ceremonial sword.

Taemin turned to the healer. "I'm sorry if this seems abrupt, but do you have any connections to water tribe nobility?"

The healer looked up from her hand, startled. "If I have any, they are too distant now to be called connections, my Lady."

Taemin nodded. _Perhaps another avenue, then. Yes. We could send a hawk . . . _

The door came open again. Admiral Rozen held it open for the advisors. Yaku came through first, followed by a bald man whose name Taemin didn't know, along with three advisors who she recognized by face if not by name. When the water stopped glowing, she stood and turned toward the five of them. "Your names. All of you."

"Yaku Senshi, my Lady."

"Henso Kizu," said the bald man.

"Xu Lo."

"Zhi Zhu."

"Araneo Lux."

Taemin nodded, memorizing the names so she would not make mistakes later. "Have you decided what to do with the Earth Kingdom families within our borders?"

"Not as of yet," Henso said. "We are still considering several options."

"Very well. We will discuss those options tomorrow at sunrise. Right now, there are more important matters to discuss."

They glanced at each other in apparent surprise. Yaku looked uneasy. "Yes, my Lady?"

"I would like to discuss the possibility of bringing the water tribes to our aid."

Her advisors let out a breath. Henso spoke. "Your father sent birds asking for an alliance months ago, in the event another war should start. I'm afraid their replies were . . . unfavorable."

"The chief of the Northern Water Tribe is married to one of ours, correct?" She paused, waiting for them to tell her she was wrong, that all her attention in history class was for naught and that she was mistaken in this crucial point. When they did not interrupt her, she went on. "We can use that as leverage."

"A single marriage does not cement an alliance," Yaku said. "You _know _that."

She flinched at his tone, backpedaling. "I do not wish to align with their nation. However, if there's any way to enlist their services, we must consider it. This war will come at great cost to the Fire Nation if we charge ahead thoughtlessly."

"What are you suggesting?" Xu Lo asked, lifting her brown eyes to meet Taemin's.

Taemin turned away, focusing on the broad leaves of some unidentifiable plant. "Even if we can't forge an alliance, we can hire waterbenders to join our troops."

"As mercenaries?" Yaku questioned.

"As healers. Medicine has advanced considerably since the last war, but if there's no one in the battlefield to give first aid, all our technology will be useless. Waterbenders can heal—we can minimize the loss of life for our troops."

"All excellent ideas in theory, but you've forgotten only a handful of waterbenders can use their bending to heal, and those that do are likely utilizing that talent in their own professions."

"Then we will pay them enough to make them leave those positions." She stepped forward. "And we will pay those skilled in the healing arts to train any with the potential for it."

Yaku squared his shoulders. "Lady Taemin, this is absurd. This war will be expensive enough without handing gold to every untrained healer that comes our way."

"Then we will make the Earth Kingdom pay reparations when we conquer them."

"What if we lose? The Fire Nation will be in debt for decades!"

"Find a way to make it work. Use whatever leverage you can, and make up the rest in gold. I _will _have healers among our troops."

Araneo tapped Yaku's shoulder. "Perhaps our young Fire Lady has more wisdom than you suspect. A corps of healers will provide a great service if we can predict where the battles will occur."

Yaku glared at Araneo. "If you wish to ruin this nation from within, do it with cleverness instead of base flattery."

Araneo raised one thin eyebrow, lip quirking to the side. "Are you accusing me of treachery, Yaku?"

Taemin stepped forward. "Enough. I know my father paid you to argue, but we _will _send hawks requesting service from the water tribes. That's an order."

Yaku looked down, chastened. Taemin felt an odd flutter in her chest, a sensation similar to an adrenaline rush, but backed by fierce pleasure rather than fear. Fire played at her fingertips, in sync with her breathing.

_Is this what power feels like? _she wondered, a shiver running down her back. Her fingers flexed.

"So it's decided, then." Taemin turned toward the court scribe, who was holding several scrolls awkwardly in his hands, lacking a podium and a typewriter. "Write a letter to each of the water tribes requesting their healers' services."

"Yes, my Lady."

She nodded, her stomach rumbling. "Excellent. As for the rest of us, it's time to break for lunch."

* * *

><p>Ferron's stomach snarled, a noisy reminder of his long-denied hunger. When he looked up at the setting sun, his vision danced with black dots.<p>

"We're near the port," he said, blinking rapidly to clear the dots from his vision. Hazy buildings rose from the horizon. According to Terrin's map, the structures belonged to Port Yodo.

"Yeah, but we're not going to make it tonight," Terrin said.

Ferron stared at him. "What do you mean? It's right _there_."

The earthbender rolled his eyes. "Don't you know anything? We can't even hear the sea where we are—we can barely see the city, and only because it's a clear day."

"We'll make it."

"Give it up. We should make camp before the bugs start coming out."

Ferron shook his head. "It can't wait. They've probably already noticed I'm gone—we need to get as far from Ba Sing Se as possible."

"What, you think someone's coming after you?"

He hesitated. Terrin sounded so scornful, as if he didn't really believe someone would come looking for him. Yet by now, the Dai-Li were surely on their way, seeking him out, narrowing down the paths he could've followed. _It's a miracle they're not here already._

"_Is _someone coming after you?" Terrin demanded.

"I . . . I'm not sure. The Dai-Li came to my house the day the Earth Kingdom went to war. They're probably looking for me."_ They'll probably find me within a few days, if I don't get out to sea._

Terrin rounded on him. "You _idiot_! They're going to find us and drag us both back to Ba Sing Se!"

"Not if we make it to the coast."

With a movement too fast for his eyes to track, Terrin lunged forward and shoved him. Ferron staggered back, arms wheeling as he struggled to right himself. Instead, he fell backwards onto the path, scraping his palms on the gravel in a botched attempt to soften his landing. Almost instantly, something shot up into his back, driving him to his feet once again. He gasped, head whipping around to see the object that had forced him up.

A slab of rock jutted up from the path, right where he'd fallen. If it had been there when he'd first hit the ground, it might've broken his shoulder. Instead, Terrin's earthbending had pulled it up and, like a springboard, it had forced him to his feet.

"You should've said something earlier," Terrin snarled.

Rocks crawled up around his ankles, pulling him down. Ferron struggled to free himself, only to sink deeper into the ground. The tight-packed earth wrapped around his abdomen. "What are you doing?"

"Leaving you here. The Dai-Li will pull you out when they find you." The earthbender turned, grabbing his backpack from the ground and stalking down the path. With a final stomp, he buried Ferron up to his neck in stone.

"Where are you _going_? Come back, this isn't funny!"

"If you can't get yourself out, then there's nothing you can do to stop this war."

"Stop it! You've had your fun, now let me out of here. Please . . ."

Terrin just kept walking.

"Come back! Joke's over."

The earthbender didn't even turn.

Ferron's shouts died in his throat. His lungs convulsed, drawing in air despite the tight wall of stone wrapped around his body. When he finally realized Terrin wasn't joking, his face fell forward.

The sunk sank beneath the horizon, the last fiery fingers of light fading from Ferron's sight. In the distance, he heard the rumble of rocks grinding together. Terrin was probably using his bending to speed toward Port Yodo. _Of course he'd leave me here, _Ferron thought. _I'm useless to him. I'm useless to everyone._

Beneath the surface, his fingers twitched. _The earth is loose, _he thought, remembering the night Sifu Fane had imprisoned him up to his waist to teach him earthbending. Freya had eventually come to his aid, and his hands had been free, but perhaps the softer ground would yield more easily than the compact earth of Ba Sing Se's earthbending academy.

_Focus, _he told himself. _Prove Terrin wrong. Prove everybody wrong._

He exhaled, closing his eyes. His fingers twitched again as he searched for faults in the ground. The rocks crowded around his chest, putting pressure on his lungs. Asphyxiation wasn't his preferred method of dying, but as unskilled as he was, he had to consider the possibility that trying to free himself would only crush the air out of his already compressed lungs. _I have to be careful. I have to do this right. _

His fingers nudged the loose rock aside, this time with a more purposeful movement. He managed to create a pocket of air around his fists, managed to free his hands of the sharp pebbles digging into his skin. _There. _

He inhaled, then exhaled, trying to ignore the pressure around his chest. Terrin had really buried him deep. _Even Sifu Fane wouldn't have done this to me . . . _He twisted his fist, focusing his energy to his knuckles. Sifu Fane had always talked about bringing the energy from inside his body to the surface, where he could use it to bend, but he'd never really grasped that concept the way she'd wanted him to. It was too abstract. The movements required to bend made sense; the idea of chi moving through his body like blood didn't. No scientists had ever dissected a body and found the tunnels where the chi was suppose to flow. It was a theoretical science.

A myth.

He sighed and lowered his forehead to the dirt. "This is so stupid."

In the distance, a badgerfrog croaked.

If Ferron had been able to move his arms, he would've punched something. All of this was stupid. Terrin was right—he should've never been born the Avatar. If it hadn't been for that fluke, that one little puff of flame he'd produced when he'd tried to fight the bully, the world still wouldn't know he was the Avatar, and no one would've cared how weak his bending was.

_You're weak. You've always been weak. _His eyelids slid shut.

He breathed. Opened his eyes.

_That sounds like something Terrin would say. _His fist clenched unconsciously at the thought. The rocks around his hand shifted a little bit, as if repelled by his anger.

"Kind of pointless now, isn't it?" he muttered, head rolling to the side as if that would somehow dislodge one of his arms. He chuckled bitterly. "Not like it even matters. The Dai-Li will find me soon." His laughter shook, morphing into a sob. Humiliated, he pressed his face to the ground to stifle it.

After a time, his body relaxed. Pangs of hunger, somewhat forgotten in his futile escape attempts, drained his willpower. _I should've just taken the food when Terrin offered, _he thought dismally. But the offer had come last night, when his hunger had been only a distant misery. Now, as he meditated on it, it sapped what little energy he had left.

Hunger had been a familiar companion to him, ever since he'd been old enough to distinguish it from the too-brief feeling of fullness. Yet it was a poisonous friend, keeping him company while chipping away at his resolve. The longer the poison festered, the harder it was going to be to get out of here.

At home, his mother had always been there to help him up, despite her own shortcomings, or his friends. But here, abandoned in the wilderness, there was no one to rely on except himself, and the dim possibility of a returning Terrin. Any other outcome was unacceptable—he would _not _be dragged back to Ba Sing Se like a prisoner to his cell, and he would _not _allow himself to die here, within sight of Port Yodo.

_As soon as I get to the city, I can get something to eat. But first, I have to get out of this pit. _He looked up to the sky, breathing. Celestial events had no bearing on earthbending, though he knew from school that firebending and waterbending were affected by the sun and moon. _Earth is stubborn. Rocks don't change without great forces being applied. That's why they use rocks to make buildings and walls. Because even after everyone leaves them behind, they stay standing._

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

His fingers curled into a tight fist, and he hit the loose rock as hard as he could considering his limited mobility. He felt something give way, felt a tiny fissure open up near his hand. His eyes flashed open, staring at the surface as if the crack extended far enough to be visible.

His heart fluttered. Weak after over twenty-four hours without food, the jump in his heart rate was almost painful.

Ferron shifted his hand again, trying to widen the hairline fracture he knew he'd created. He felt . . . something. A strange shift that seemed to resonate within his body as much as from the ground. _Is this what Sifu Fane meant when she was talking about chi? _he wondered, breathing harder now. Despite the cracks forming around his arm, the pressure around his chest hadn't eased, and drawing breath was growing more difficult as he devoted his energy to freeing his arm.

But he kept going, striking the sides of the ever-growing hole around his hand. After half an hour, he began to see tiny cracks forming across the surface, as thin as a strand of spidersnake silk.

_Prove Terrin wrong, _he told himself. _Prove everyone wrong. _

Another punch, then another.

One hour, then another.

Like the hand of a corpse reaching up from its grave, his arm broke through the top layer of rock. He stared at his hand for a long moment. His fingers were caked in dirt, which was covered in a thick layer of dust. Dried blood marked his knuckles, which were raw from the repeated impacts. The visible parts of his skin were either pale and blood-deprived or red and swollen.

But his arm was free, and now that it was, he intended to free the rest of his body.

* * *

><p>Terrin made it to Port Yodo three hours after abandoning Ferron.<p>

At this time of night, Ba Sing Se would've been silent, patrolled by the city guards for people out past curfew. The few that were permitted out of their homes would either be busy working, or selling contraband to whoever would buy it. Even after two centuries of supposed peace, no one had gotten around to getting rid of the Black Market. _I bet business is hot, now that the war's started._

Unlike Ba Sing Se, Port Yodo functioned throughout the night. Terrin saw ships moving near the docks, saw crewmembers loading and unloading goods. He even saw an old military ship, converted into a lobstercrab vessel, being examined by a man in green armor.

He slowed. Unlike Ba Sing Se, the city gates were low and made of metal. Rust coated the iron bars, the corrosion occurring even more rapidly in the salty air.

Security had evidently corroded as much as the bars, because no one stopped him as he stepped through the gates. _That'll change soon, with the war. There won't be a single port not protected by soldiers. _

Terrin hurried through the darkened town, glancing around at the unfamiliar sights. For all his father spoke of the Earth Kingdom's greatness, their family hadn't left Ba Sing Se since he was old enough to remember. The rigging of the ships he'd only ever seen on TV loomed over him like badgermole claws. Elephant rats skittered across the ropes and into tiny cavities in the ships. A messenger hawk cried out from a wheelhouse window, clutching a scroll. The smell of fish hung thick in the air.

Terrin moved deeper into the city. Almost immediately, he came upon the row of shops, selling all sorts of goods.

"I'm looking for a way to Republic City," he said to the shopkeeper nearest to the docks. Given that he sold fishing hooks and nets, Terrin could only assume he knew something about crossing international waters. "Where can I find a boat?"

The wrinkled man grinned at him. "Oh, there aren't any boats going to Republic City from here, boy. Port Yodo used to be a military station, back during Sozin's War."

"What about the fishing vessels?"

"All full and on their way out within the week, for lobstercrab season."

_Damn it._ His fingers flexed. "Is there _any _way I can get to Republic City?"

The old man shook his head. "Not from here, no. But you can go to Port Mao. They're still giving rides to anyone with enough Yuan. It's only a day's journey by ostrich-horse." The man pointed. Terrin turned to see a stable full of ostrich-horses, manned by a haggard woman with graying hair.

"Thanks," he said, laying several coins on the counter.

_Looks like I won't have to go on foot after all, _he thought, grinning.


	15. Welcome to New Haran

Chapter Fifteen

Red fingers reached into the clouds, staining them pink.

Ferron lifted his hand to wipe the crust from his eyes. _It's morning, _he thought, gazing at the crimson streaks on the horizon. _And the sky is covered in blood._

A pang of hunger seized his stomach, and he realized the discomfort was probably what had woken him up. His extremeties felt like overcooked noodles, and his back pulsed with enough pain to rival that of his empty stomach. His neck craned around, joints popping, to find the hole where he'd spent the better part of the night.

Ignoring the spasms of pain that came with it, he stretched out as much as he could and rolled onto his belly, burying his face in his sleeping bag. He'd had just enough presence of mind to pull it from his backpack and lie down on it before he'd fallen asleep. Early Spring wasn't the best time for a journey. Sleeping on the ground would've leached the heat from his body even faster than the crisp, nighttime winds. _Maybe I should've crawled _into _the sleeping bag instead of on top, _he thought, but he couldn't find the resolve to move now. He wasn't even sure if he could, exhausted as he was.

He closed his eyes again. Another few hours of sleep, then he would find something to eat, somewhere . . .

The next thing he knew, a boot was prodding his shoulder blades. Ferron rolled to his feet, instinct commanding him to defend himself. A figure loomed above him, covering the sun and making the world go dusky again. The black spots dancing in front of his eyes didn't help much, either.

"So you managed to pull yourself out of there."

Ferron blinked, squinting to get a better look at the hazy figure. His mouth fell open. "_Terrin_?"

"The one and only."

Ferron opened his mouth to express his shock, then bit his lip hard enough to taste blood. He braced one hand on the ground and forced himself to his feet. His knees wobbled under him. "I figured you'd be on a boat by now," he said quietly, looking Terrin in the eye.

The other boy shrugged. "Yeah, well, I changed my mind. Figured it would look bad if I left the Avatar to die."

Ferron blinked. "You're not making any sense."

"Probably because you're delusional from not eating."

It took Ferron several seconds to process the words, so perhaps the earthbender was right. "So what? I've been hungrier than this before." _Once. Only once. _

Terrin rolled his eyes. "Sit down, moron. You look like you're about to pass out."

Numbly, Ferron obeyed. The ground seemed to tilt as he moved, and he bruised his tailbone on the landing. He curled up, pressing his forehead against his knees in an effort to stop the unnatural sway.

Terrin sat down, facing him. The earthbender pulled a wooden box from his backpack and slid it over to Ferron. "Eat. I mean it this time."

He stared at the box, fingers searching for the mechanism that opened the lid. They encountered a metal latch, and he flipped the top of the box open. Immediately, he was assaulted with the smell of rice and dumplings.

Two nights ago, he'd been annoyed, envious of Terrin's earthbending abilities, and unwilling to work with the one person who could serve as his ally. Now, having pulled himself out of his potential grave, he decided his pride had grown sufficiently to endure the blow. He took the chopsticks from the side of the box and brought a dumpling to his lips.

"I didn't think you'd be able to get out of there. You might master earthbending yet."

Ferron's lips twitched into a faint smile. "I guess I'm still asleep after all. The real Terrin would never say something like that."

"Shut up and eat, idiot."

Ferron ate.

* * *

><p>Chief Narue stared at the scroll, swallowing back the horror he felt every time he read the words. He'd known things were strained between the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation, but a declaration of war . . .<p>

His wife appeared in the doorway, her dark brown hair clinging to her cheeks like silk curtains. She'd removed the ponytail that usually captured the back of her hair, and instead of the deep blue coat she sported in the city, she'd dressed in the heavy Fire Nation robes she often wore to bed. "You've been sitting there a long time. Is something troubling you?"

He opened his mouth to mutter a denial, then closed it. _No good can come of this, _he thought, rolling up the scroll and rising from his chair. "I'm . . . We've received some bad news."

Instantly, Zora's eyes opened wide; she leaned forward. "Our daughters? Are Meira and Zelda—"

"Not news of them." _Though I wish it was, if only to stop us from wondering. _

Zora's shoulders slumped. Her eyes, the same brown as their youngest daughter's, fell to the ice beneath their feet. But because she was his wife of two decades, and because she was stoic by nature, she remained composed. "Then what's the news?"

"The Earth Kingdom has declared war on the Fire Nation."

The blood slithered out of Zora's face.

Narue went on, wincing internally at every miniscule twitch of his wife's face. "The Fire Nation Capital was attacked, along with several major ports and industrial cities. Damages are heavy, but not yet calculated. The Fire Lord and Fire Lady are both dead—"

Zora flinched, a pained sound breaking through her teeth.

"—but their daughter has taken their place as Fire Lord."

"Their daughter?" his wife echoed, a strange look crossing her face. Narue could guess why—Zora's eldest sister, Alasane, had married Fire Lord Meiyo before he'd ever ascended the throne. Zora had helped change Taemin's diapers, before Narue's father had passed and forced them to return to the North Pole.

"Young Taemin is Fire Lord now," he said, watching Zora for any signs that this was too much. His wife wilted ever so slightly. "And the Fire Nation is in grave peril."

"First my children, now my nation . . ." Zora smiled bitterly, shaking her head. Her smile faltered as she lifted a sleeve to wipe her eyes. "The spirits are cruel."

"We can go out looking for Meira and Zelda again at first light. Or we can declare ourselves allies of the Fire Nation and—"

"We can come up with something tomorrow morning, after we discuss things with the council. We . . . We'll be fine."

Narue stared at his boots, unable to face his wife when she was so close to breaking._ You truly are a coward, Narue, _he thought to himself. _There's a war going on, your daughters are missing, and you can't even face your wife. _He exhaled. "We'll have to break off the negotiations with the Earth Kingdom. Meira shouldn't have to be married to the son of a murderer."

"Narue . . ."

"I will redouble efforts to comb the Northern Sea. Perhaps if we search the area again—"

"Narue."

"—we'll find them camping out on an iceberg. I don't believe they would've gotten killed. Meira is a master waterbender in her own right, and Zelda—"

"Narue, listen to me."

Zora's voice finally broke through to rant; he looked up to see her approaching, her face a tight mask of control. "Meira must marry the Earth Prince."

His hands dropped to his sides, limp. His voice rose, out of control. "You never supported my decision to have them married! Why _now_? Why, when we have every reason to turn against the Earth Kingdom?"

"What's worse, Narue? Selling our eldest daughter to the Earth Kingdom or letting both our daughters die when the Earth Kingdom crushes the Fire Nation? You know that if we align with either, the other will come to crush us. I do not have the political power to stop the Fire Nation from coming after us if we align with the Earth Kingdom, and neither of us have the power to stop the Earth Kingdom from coming after us should we align with the Fire Nation. Even if we merged with our sister tribe and all the pockets of our people scattered across the globe, we cannot face either country! What would you have me do, Narue? Withhold my daughter's hand from the Earth Prince so we might die in the fighting after, or sell her to a world superpower like you sold yourself to the Fire Nation when you married me?"

Narue stared at her, shoulders rigid. "I will not be spoken to like this!" he exploded. "I—This is—"

"This is the only way to keep the water tribes out of the war. Through our marriage, we are bound to the Fire Nation. If we marry Meira off . . ." She faltered, sucking in a ragged breath before going on. "If we marry Meira off to the Earth Prince, we have an excuse to remain neutral. And that's our only hope of surviving this war."

Narue lifted an arm, fingers coiling into a fist. Surprise flashed across Zora's face, alien enough on her features to drain his fury.

Ashamed, he lowered his arm and turned away from her. "How can we marry our daughter to the Earth Prince if she cannot be found?" he whispered, dozens of too-familiar maps flashing through his mind as he contemplated finding them after days of fruitless searching.

Zora's reply was quiet, almost inaudible. "We could have another daughter."

The silence that followed reverberated around the room, a silent echo that assaulted his eardrums like the clatter of bones against ice. He drew in a breath as if to speak, then exhaled, saying nothing. After almost a minute of silence, his mind formed the objection he'd been searching for. "If we had another daughter now, the age difference between her and the prince would be over twenty-five years."

"The older Earth Prince has a son. The child is only a toddler now. The age difference would not be so great."

"We're too old to have children."

"Since when is forty too old to bear a child?" Zora demanded, pacing the length of the room. Her gait was long and graceful from years of practicing poise, but instead of looking like a diplomat, she looked like an angry saber-tooth moose-lion. "Until we can be certain Meira and Zelda are safe, we have to assume there will be no marriage for either of them. And if we want our nation to remain neutral, the best way to do so is to have a child and promise her to the Earth King's grandson."

Narue lowered his head. "Zora . . ."

"You know it's true." She grew quiet. "It doesn't have to be anything more than an engagement. A promise ceremony. We can raise her in the North and give her to the Earth Kingdom when she comes of age."

Narue looked down, taking a deep breath. _There's one thing you haven't considered, Zora, _he thought, lifting his eyes to his wife's face. "What if we have a son?"

Her expression softened, her eyes growing distant, mournful. "Then we pray our daughters return before the rest of us die."

He let out a shaky breath. _All of this, on a fifty-fifty chance. _"And if our daughters return before you conceive?"

"Then we pretend this conversation never happened." Her voice was back to its usual, unshakable calm. Her hand, smooth even after a dry, bitter winter, wrapped around his, pulling him closer. She moved her lips close to his ear. "Come to bed with me, Narue. We can tell the council about the war tomorrow."

Narue obeyed.

* * *

><p>Taemin watched them pile logs onto the pyre, all traces of confidence fading like the curls of smoke after a candle has been extinguished.<p>

"Remain stoic, my lady," Yaku said, laying a hand on her shoulder. She hardly felt the touch through the layers of ceremonial clothes. "You have shown them that you feel their pain; now it is time to show them your strength."

"I understand." She stared as several men in black clothes carried a cracked beam from the palace toward the center of the unlit funeral pyre. It had been Yaku's idea to use the remnants of the crumbled buildings to honor her parents' deaths, and while Taemin was sure it was a bid to gain her favor by honoring her fallen people along with her parents, she took no joy in watching.

"Your crown is slipping, Lady Taemin," said her handmaid. "Would you like me to fix it?"

"Yes please."

The woman leaned forward and tilted her crown a few degrees to the right. The weight sat awkwardly on her head, as if her skull was misshapen, unable to hold up the crown.

In the center of the unlit pyre, two wooden caskets sat side by side, sealed shut. Each was ringed with a circle of oil-soaked timber. Over each casket, a silk Fire Nation banner hung. Over that was a second banner, with an ornate family crest, marking the occupants of the coffins.

"So the bodies were recovered?" she asked of no one in particular. Someone would answer; someone always answered.

"They were," Yaku said, his voice subdued.

Taemin hesitated, throat closing up. "Were they . . . Did they suffer long?"

"That is . . . a very mature question."

"Did they?" she asked, her voice sharper.

"Your father died before the attack was even over. We found him by the turtle-duck pond."

"And my mother?"

Yaku hesitated. Taemin would've asked again, would've _demanded _an answer, except she couldn't seem to breathe. At last, her advisor spoke. "Trapped under a palace support beam. She was . . . She was still alive when they found her, but after that, no, she didn't last long."

A shiver ran down her back. It had taken nearly two hours for someone to find her mother. If she'd been trapped under the rubble that whole time . . .

"Fear not, my Lady. You will not share their fate. We won't be caught by surprise again."

She nodded, struggling to remain composed. It had been only a day and a half since the attack. The wound was too fresh, too shocking, and even as she stared over the pyre where her parents would burn, the whole event felt like a dream.

_But it's not a dream, _some small part of her thought. _It's not a dream. The whole Fire Nation is looking to you now. You can't break down like a little kid anymore._ Her breath shook. She made a concerted effort to keep her face composed.

The workers finished pouring barrels of fuel onto the fire. A dozen firebenders, all wearing full regalia in accord with their rank, stepped forward, equidistant from each other as they formed a circle around the pyre.

"It's starting," Yaku said. "You can give the signal whenever you wish."

_What should I say? _she wanted to ask. The words never made it to her lips.

She walked to the edge of the platform where she'd made her coronation speech, trying to call back the rush of emotion she'd felt when her people had echoed her words back to her. But they all stood silent now, as grim as any mourners. Thousands of candles wavered in the silent crowd, twinkling like stars in the darkness. Despite the pinpricks of light, Taemin could not make out a single face in the crowd.

And she realized, as the world held its breath for her signal, that there was nothing to say. To speak of her sorrow now would be redundant. To promise her people retribution would taint the ceremony with words of war. To shout false promises of a quick victory would dishonor her father.

Honor mattered more than anything else now. Taemin would not strip hers away with empty words.

She lifted one hand in the air, palm up. Fire bloomed above her palm, a brighter light than the thousands of candles flickering in the plaza.

The firebenders stepped forward in perfect unison, fists shooting forward. Crimson flames licked up at the edges of the funeral pyre, following oil-soaked lines leading to the caskets. It spread out from there, consuming the stained wood of the palace walls, the support beams splintered in the bombings, the unrecognizable bits of timber that had made up everything in her once-peaceful city.

The fire reached the coffins, and Taemin watched her parents burn.

* * *

><p>The Satomobile rumbled as it passed over the gravel road.<p>

Freya closed her eyes, reclining in the back seat and stretching her legs as far as she could in the confined space. They'd been driving for hours, towing a trailer full of possessions her mother had insisted on bringing to New Haran. _If we'd taken the train like Dad wanted, we could've been there already, _she thought.

Minutes passed. Two seats away, leaning against the window, her ten-year-old brother snored. Freya opened her eyes, taking a moment to look at him while he was at his least annoying. His skin was the same pale shade as hers, the product of a life spent indoors, doing things befitting of nobility. A smear of paint marred his neck, from the painting he'd been working on last night. His hair was dark brown, the same color as hers had been before she'd bleached it, but if his eyes had been open, they would've shone with the bright blue color of their grandmother's people.

_Ferron said his great-grandmother was from the Southern Water Tribe. _She shoved the thought away. She couldn't think about Ferron right now, not after the note they'd left off on. There would be time to reconnect after the war, or when she returned to Ba Sing Se. _If he's even still there._

She shook her head, a lock of white hair coming free of her bun. With her finger, she tucked it back into her hair binder. _Of course he'll be there. He has to realize there's nothing he can do to stop this war, even if he _is _the Avatar. _She sighed. The lack of regard for the once-sacred role had irked her ever since she'd found out Ferron was the Avatar. Terrin and Kule had treated him no better, using him as a punching bag despite the knowledge that Ferron would one day be capable of crushing them. The other students had been mostly . . . indifferent to their classmate's new role.

Freya had always known there was something _different _about the brown-haired boy. Abrasive as he could be, Ferron had always possessed a subtle gentleness. She remembered one instance, back in first grade, three years before they'd ever started speaking . . .

She'd been crying that day, in the hollowed out dome of the school playground. All around her, a six-foot wall of rock fenced her in, keeping everyone else at bay. She'd just started earthbending, and while her parents had praised her as a natural, she'd been angry because her younger brother, Kotai, had beaten her in a sparring match.

_It wasn't even a school day, _she thought, images of her flight flickering beneath her eyelids. She remembered running into the play structure and pulling a wall of earth up to guard against all the unfairness of the universe, remembered curling up into a tight ball and sobbing into her knees.

And she remembered, more intensely than anything else, the little boy who had scaled the outside of the wall and jumped over the edge. Freya remembered meeting his eyes—the same deep brown as fresh mud in Spring—and wondering at his silence. Even then, he'd been skinny, his hair matted and unkempt like most street urchins from the Lower Ring. Wordlessly, he'd crawled through the narrow tubing of the playground equipment and sat in front of her, taking her hand.

A smile tugged at Freya's lips. Ferron's palms had been caked with mud, and when their hands had come together, the wet earth had squeezed between her fingers like glue that didn't stick. And with all the confidence of a boy who didn't yet understand his dismal quality of life, Ferron had said, "No sense in crying over spilled mud, right?"

Their Satomobile hit a bump, then started gliding along much more smoothly. Freya's eyes flashed open, and she peered out the window to see a stretch of black pavement where there had only been a dirt road before. As her eyes followed the black strip, her gaze fell across a long ridge in the earth.

The ridge seemed to rise higher as they drew near, curving at the sides. The top seemed too even to be a natural landmark, but for all she knew, wind and rain had worn it to a nearly level peak. It was only when they got close enough for her to see the Earth Kingdom insignia carved into the ridge that she realized she was looking at the great walls of New Haran.

_One wall to keep invaders out, and three more to keep everyone else segregated. _Freya shook off the thought. The Earth Kingdom had learned something since the brief fall of Ba Sing Se near the end of Sozin's War. They wouldn't be so foolish as to divide the city the same way they had its predecessor.

Would they?

"We're almost there," her mother announced, leaning toward the windshield, as if that would afford her a better view.

In the seat beside Freya, Kotai's eyelids fluttered. "We're at the capital?"

"That's right," their mother trilled, pulling a bag of cosmetics from her purse so she could touch up her makeup before their arrival. "Aren't you excited? New Haran is twice as grand as Ba Sing Se ever was."

Kotai grinned. "You really think so?"

_I think it's a lot bigger target now that the war's started, _Freya thought, but didn't say.

"I heard every street is lined with giant televisions," her mother said.

"What about the roads being paved with gold?" Kotai asked.

"That's just an expression, sweetie."

"Oh. But they have a really big park, just like Republic City, but better, right?"

"That's what I've heard."

"And the sculpture gardens?"

"Mm-hmm. And a dozen art museums, too."

Kotai's lips stretched into a grin. Freya tuned them out, choosing instead to look at the walls. Twice the size of Ba Sing Se, the exterior wall ballooned out to an almost absurd degree. She couldn't think of any city that would need that much space—even Ba Sing Se had room to walk around, and it was considerably smaller than the new capital.

A line of Satomobiles had formed near the gates, admitted one at a time through narrow tunnels. Her father stopped and pulled several Yuan from his wallet.

"What's that for?" Freya asked.

"For the toll. You have to pay to get in and out of this city."

_It's like a jail, _she thought, turning to her mother. "Is there a house reserved for us?"

"The city officials assured us there would be room for high-ranking families like ours. They should be ready for us."

Freya laid back, staring at the wall's crenellations. Dai-Li agents stood there, overlooking the city's visitors. From this distance, they looked more like painted statues than people. Sentinels watching over a military base.

Their Satomobile crept closer to the walls. It took them nearly half an hour to reach the front of the line, by which time her father was impatiently tapping the steering wheel.

"Names please," said the guard at the gate.

Her father listed off each of their names in turn, then identified them as distant relatives of the Earth King. The man at the toll booth referenced a list, then held his hand out. "That'll be fifty Yuan."

The number seemed to surprise her father. He pulled several bills from his wallet and handed them over. For the first time, the man in the toll booth smiled at them.

"Welcome to New Haran."

The engine whirred as they drove through the tunnel leading into the city. Shadows fell across the windows, blackening the dark interior further. Freya's fingers wrapped around the ends of her sleeves. The darkness was nothing to be afraid of, and under normal circumstances, she wouldn't have felt even the slightest unease. But here, cut off from her element by the rumbling Satomobile, in a city she didn't know and didn't want to know, the darkness seeped into her skin and chilled her blood.

Hollow white light poured from the end of the tunnel, leaving spots in her vision. When they finally escaped the shadows of the tunnel, her eyes roved across the skyline.

These buildings were like nothing she'd ever seen. Narrow towers scraped the sky, twice as tall as the walls of Ba Sing Se. Their shape was such that she automatically shied away, as if they would topple in the lightest breeze, like a tower of blocks. Yet they stood fast, monuments to human ingenuity. Massive screens hung from the buildings by seemingly tenuous supports, displaying advertisements for drinks, food, cosmetics, clothes, _everything_. Sidewalks overflowed with foot traffic like the gridlocked streets. On one street corner, an unshaven man with a caged sparrowkeet held out a ceramic bowl, which sang with the sound of coins sliding against each other.

The people, too, were different than the people of Ba Sing Se. Dyed hair seemed to be the norm here, ranging from a pale yellow shade to neon pink and lime green. Though some of the people dressed sensibly, like her family, some wore clothes that would get them ridiculed in Ba Sing Se—scarves with layers of multicolored sequins, hats cloaked in feathers, dresses that ballooned out at the bottom, like bells. Then there were those who were so scantily clad, Freya turned her head away reflexively. As if their strange appearances weren't enough, their movements seemed jerky and unstable, like birds strutting over open ground.

She supposed the city was amazing. That didn't stop her from hating it.

"Where do we go from here?" Kotai asked.

"The message they sent us said to go straight to the Second Ring, then find City Hall."

Freya stared at the rows of cars in front of them. People passed them on foot. "Maybe we should park this somewhere and walk to the Second Ring," she suggested.

"Don't be silly, Freya," her mother chided her. "The city is dangerous."

"But I walked around Ba Sing Se all the time, and nothing bad ever happened."

Her mother frowned. Her lipstick had smeared near the corner of her lips. "Yes, honey, but this is a brand new city, and I don't want to show up at City Hall on foot, like a beggar."

Her eyes flitted again to the man on the corner. Grayish-white stubble wrapped around the lower half of his face, but the look in his eyes was one she'd seen too many times in Ba Sing Se. It was like standing in the Lower Ring, seeing the hollow eyes of starving children and homeless old men as they extended their hands in silent pleas.

A fragment of her last conversation with Ferron echoed in her ears: _"Have you _seen _the condition of this city? The king doesn't care about us!"_

_What if he was right? _she thought, unable to look away from the old beggar. The sound of coins shuffling inside of his bowl had died away.

It was strange how, amidst the chaotic noise of the city beyond her window, her ears picked up on that absence. She felt a surge of anger for the people passing by the homeless man. If they'd been as hungry as most of the people of Ba Sing Se had been, it might've been different. She might have forgiven them for their callousness, labeled it as a survival tactic. But all those people dressed in silk and bedecked with jewelry? How could they abide this plight when they had money to spend on luxuries?

The answer came to her with cold certainty: this was not Ba Sing Se. People did not help each other here. They did not care what happened to their peers.

Freya closed her eyes and thought of home.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes:<em>

_Funeral pyres, star-crossed lovers, and bartering off children for the sake of your nation—the story only gets darker from here, folks. _

_You may have noticed that, with the abundance of POV characters, there doesn't seem to be one primary hero. This is intentional—while some characters may be more sympathetic than others, the story will be told from too many perspectives for there to ever be a clear protagonist. This means ambiguous moral decisions, sympathetic villains, and a lot of grey-and-grey morality._

_In short: root for whoever you want and hope they don't die by the end of the story._


	16. Rocks Fall

Chapter Sixteen

"Get up."

Ferron's eyelids twitched. He rolled onto his side, pressing a hand against his ears and cocooning himself in blankets.

Terrin kicked him. A squeak escaped his throat, and in an instant, he'd slipped out of his sleeping bag and perched himself on the edge of their makeshift shelter, fist raised to defend himself. "What the hell—"

"Shut _up_," Terrin hissed. The hush in his voice was enough to give the Avatar pause. Ferron quieted, glancing around as if he could see through the stone walls of their shelter.

"What is it?" he whispered.

"Be quiet and listen."

Ferron closed his eyes, letting his ears range out as far as they would go. He could hear _something _in the distance, like pebbles grinding together in a container. It rattled his teeth, growing louder with each passing second. Unease crept up his spine. His fingers curled and flexed. _Why didn't I think to bring a weapon? _he wondered. A sword or a knife would've been more intuitive than earthbending, and then he wouldn't be quite so helpless. Terrin could probably fight off most threats, but Ferron didn't put it past him to sell him to the Dai-Li for a sizeable reward.

The rumble rose in a great crescendo. Terrin pressed his hand, palm down, into the ground, eyebrows coming together in focus. "Dai-Li agents," he hissed, fingers curling into a fist. He threw a look in Ferron's direction that said, _This is all your fault. _

"What now?" Ferron whispered, shrinking back until his shoulders hit the wall.

Terrin punched the ground; it rippled around the point of impact, fissures forming in the surface. One of the cracks opened up beneath Ferron, and he had to throw his hands out to stop himself from falling. "Hey!"

"Shut up and get in the hole."

"I am _not_ going—"

"Do it."

"You'll bury me!"

Terrin's hand snaked out in a blindingly fast movement. Too late, Ferron raised his arms to block the punch. The earthbender's fist smashed into his sternum and knocked him back. Like a marionette with its strings cut, Ferron's body went limp and tumbled into the tight crevasse.

"Idiot," Terrin muttered, twisting his hand. A flat slab of rock jutted out from the surface and covered the opening. Panic hit Ferron like a mudslide. "Now shut up and let me handle this."

Ferron stared up at the tiny crack between his face and the surface. Blood seeped into his shirt where the rocks had dug into his flesh, but he could only feel the sticky wetness trailing across his skin. His adrenaline took any pain away, along with any sense of safety.

Terrin shifted above him, moving things around. As he draped his sleeping bag over the crack, the faded glow of their campfire vanished, and Ferron was alone in the dark.

_Breathe, _he told himself, closing his eyes as if to trick his body into believing he could make the light reappear at any moment. The walls, already flush against his body, seemed to convulse, crushing his lungs. _Breathe, you have to breathe . . . _

Terrin's footsteps echoed above him, almost as loud as the rush of blood pulsing in his ears. The noise made Ferron think of Pickpocket's lessons, back in Ba Sing Se. _Rule Number One: learn to keep quiet. If people don't notice you, it's a lot easier to slip past their guard. _

Of course, many of Pickpocket's rules had been designed for picking people's pockets, but there had been days where he'd needed such stealth, days where the hollow pit of his stomach demanded more than the meager rations of the city's trash bins. Days he didn't allow himself to regret.

But he severely regretted his inability to crawl out of this hole.

The rumbling beyond their shelter faded, turning to footsteps, shuffling. Ferron recognized the sound of a log rolling off the fire and winced. So loud. And the walls around him only made the sound echo even louder.

"Excuse me," said a deep voice. Ferron didn't recognize it, but from the timbre, he guessed it was an older man. "We're looking for a boy of seventeen, with light brown hair and brown eyes."

_They're looking for me. _While he'd already surmised this from Terrin's earlier assessments, having it confirmed made it considerably more terrifying. _They're looking for me, and they're going to find me. Or worse, Terrin's going to hand me over. That must be why he stuck me down here. He knew I wouldn't be able to get out fast enough. _He dragged a ragged breath through his windpipe, then froze, paranoia sweeping through his body. _What if they heard? I'm dead, oh spirits, they're going to take me back to Ba Sing Se._

Up above, Terrin spoke.

* * *

><p>"Haven't seen anyone like that," he said, manipulating the charred stick he'd been using to poke the fire. Embers rose from the pile in a cloud, heading for the smoke hole at the top of the shelter.<p>

"He's the Avatar. He left Ba Sing Se two nights ago."

_I'm well aware, _he thought, letting his eyes drift up to his visitors. Decked in conical green hats, they appeared almost comical figures, like circus performers in their flamboyant costumes. "Well, I haven't seen anyone out here in the week I've been traveling," he said, leaving the tip of his poking stick in the fire as he rose to his feet.

The nearest agent scrutinized his face for a long moment, as if he could detect the deception in his words. Terrin forced his jaw to remain relaxed, forced his face to appear fatigued. It was late. Their leader likely wouldn't approve of them disturbing the peace of a lone traveler.

"There was no one else with you then?"

"Nope."

"And how long did you say you've been traveling?"

"A few days."

The agent looked at him sharply. A jolt of panic shot through his chest. The Dai Li agent cast a glance at his colleagues, receiving a nod from each of them. He slid forward, his stone shoes gliding across the smooth ground. "Step outside please."

"What for?" he demanded. Without his permission, his eyes flickered to the sleeping bag he'd laid over the hole in the ground. _All this for an Avatar that can't even earthbend, _he thought.

"Step _outside_, please." The leader of the group reached for his hand. Terrin jerked it away, fury taking the place of panic.

"Keep your hands off me, cone-head!"

"Sir—"

"Just what am I being accused of?" he demanded, stepping forward.

"We just need to search your shelter for signs of the Avatar."

"Not going to happen." He crossed his arms in front of his chest, daring them to press the issue. And they did. Just not in the way he'd expected.

"Why are there two sleeping bags here when you're traveling alone?" one of the others asked. He was surprised to hear a female voice. When he looked over, he realized the shorter agent in the back was a woman of age with his mother.

"Well because . . ." he said, eyes flashing once again to the sleeping bag he'd draped over Ferron's hiding place. _Damn it, I should've thought of that. Of course this place looks like it was set up for two. _"My girlfriend was staying with me until last night. But she left."

"Yet you claimed you hadn't seen _anyone _since you started traveling," the woman countered. "So which is it? Were you with your girlfriend, or were you by yourself?"

"What the hell does it matter to you?" he snapped.

A new voice interrupted. "Give it up, Terrin. We're caught." His head whipped around, and for a second, he choked on his rage. _That moron! _

The Avatar crawled out of his hole, head turned down so his bangs brushed the ground.

"Is that him?" the woman asked, peering over her commander's shoulder to get a closer look.

Ferron pulled himself onto the surface, blood running down his hands where he'd scraped himself on his way down. When he looked up, he waved to the Dai Li. "I'm surprised you caught up to me," he said cheerfully, dabbing at his bruised cheek and wincing.

"Avatar Ferron, the king has ordered you to return to Ba Sing Se until such a time as he can bring you to New Haran."

For just a second, the Avatar's mud-colored eyes flitted toward Terrin. He stared back, wondering what the hell the idiot thought he was doing. Then Ferron turned back to the Dai Li. "I'm really sorry to hear that, 'cause I wasn't really planning on going back."

"The king has ordered—"

"Yeah, I know, but I'm the Avatar. I belong to all four nations, not just one. So really, it's up to me where I should go. Besides, I have to master firebending too, right? Might as well get that done before the war heats up too much."

The Dai Li exchanged glances. The leader said only three words.

"Arrest them both."

Faster than the eye could trace, two of the three followers pounced on Ferron. Rock fists flew across the shelter, smashing into the walls, into the ground, everywhere they could go. Terrin saw one connect with the Avatar's wrist and pin him to the wall, but before he could do anything about it, a hulking figure blocked his view.

"Stand still," the Dai Li agent said.

_Like hell I will, _he thought, lunging forward and tackling the man to the ground. Half a second later, he felt the bruising grip of stone fingers around his arms, forcing him back. He slammed his heel into the ground, yanking a wall of stone from the earth to shield him from further assault. He drew in a deep breath, focusing his chi, then forced all the air out through his nose. The rock fists crumbled, flying away from his body and hitting the walls.

In his peripheral vision, the two drones were busy wrestling Ferron to the ground. To his surprise, the Avatar was putting up a decent fight, kicking his attackers away despite being pinned to the wall. If he'd had the slightest clue about earthbending, he might've had an advantage.

The bulky Dai Li drone smashed the wall Terrin had pulled from the ground. Terrin lurched forward, ducking low to avoid another rock fist. _How many of those do they _have_? _he wondered, punching the ground hard enough to split the skin of his knuckles. The earth rippled beneath him, like water, but the drone dug his heels into the ground and held steady.

Terrin heard the sound of stone hitting flesh, and hoped Ferron could hold out long enough for him to bring down this guy before the others swarmed around him.

"Come get me," Terrin muttered, throwing a punch toward the Dai Li's abdomen. The man moved his arms to block the blow, leaving himself unable to launch a counterattack. Terrin pressed his advantage, throwing another savage punch at the man's face.

His teachers had always told him he had enough brute strength to take on another bender without ever drawing on his earthbending. He supposed, given the way the drone staggered back at the impact, that must've been true.

"That's what I thought," he spat, slamming his foot onto the ground to send another ripple through the makeshift shelter. This time, the Dai Li agent actually lost his footing; he fell backwards, arms wheeling.

Terrin pulled a stone slab from the ground and smashed it into the side of the bulky man's head. He went limp, unconscious.

The leader of the little band took a fighting stance, shock flitting across his face as he watched his biggest man fall. He hesitated only a moment—not nearly enough time for Terrin to launch an effective attack—before his hands shot forward, stone fingers flying toward him like daggers.

The first few hit his shoulder, pebbles clamping down around the muscle and immobilizing his right arm. Terrin threw himself to the ground, rolling perilously close to the still-glowing embers of their campfire before landing on his feet again. He brought another rock from the ground, about the size of his head, and thrust his fist forward, aiming for the leader's face.

Halfway there, he encountered resistance, as if the air had turned to sand. He continued to push the rock, trying to counter the increasingly heavy curtain, but as it lost momentum, his control over it wavered. It came to a stop in midair, suspended only by his willpower.

The Dai Li's leader grinned, sliding his foot forward. The rock floated closer to Terrin's face, the resistance changing from a wall to a spring. He struggled to hold it where it was, knowing that the second he let it go, it would fly back and crush his skull. "Damn you," he hissed, knuckles turning white under the strain of his intensity.

"Terrin, watch out!"

He turned, just in time to see the female agent throwing another rock fist in his direction. Behind her, Ferron had collapsed, both hands pinned to the wall by half a dozen stone hands. Blood ran down from some injury buried under his hair, but there was no way to tell how severe the damage was until they could spare a few minutes to look at it. _If we even make it out of here alive, _he thought. He was pretty sure the Dai Li had orders not to kill the Avatar given that he'd be reincarnated into the Fire Nation, but he doubted any such orders applied to him.

For a moment, Terrin struggled between trying to fight off the rock threatening to crush his head and the stone hands that would pin him where he stood. At the last second, he flung himself to the ground, out of range of the flying fists.

The rock the leader had been forcing toward him shot forward, as if fired from a cannon.

Terrin heard someone scream.

Orange light played across the smooth walls, as if the campfire had suddenly come back to life. The scream doubled in volume, pitch rising. Terrin saw a flash of movement as the head-sized rock careened toward him. A stone spire jutted out of the wall, directly in its path. The rock smashed into the projection, bouncing. It landed a foot from his head, diverted from its original course.

_What the hell? _

Fire rose from the base of the campfire, licking the ceiling, right around the smoke hole. Terrin stared at it, a strange, childlike wonder creeping over him as the flames bent toward the leader of the Dai Li. Belatedly, he realized it was the woman who had screamed, startled by the onslaught of flames.

_Is Ferron doing that? _he wondered. It was a stupid question. No one else _could've_ done it. Apparently, the Avatar had a much better grasp of firebending than he did of his natural element.

The flames spread out, like a panda lily opening up to face the sun. It didn't seem to be reaching for any of the Dai Li agents, only steadily growing to consume the entire shelter.

Terrin took his chance. He pried the stone fingertips off his shoulder with his left hand, then flung the cluster of rocks back at the leader. Distracted, the man didn't react until it was too late. The malformed fist caught the side of his jaw, knocking him back.

Terrin pulled part of the shelter down, making it dissolve into dozens of hand-sized rocks. They crushed the leader, knocking him out and burying him like the remnants of a fallen building.

The two remaining agents tried to flee. Rocks fell from the ceiling, threatening to crush their skulls before the fire could roast them. Terrin got to his feet, lifting his hands above his head to shield him from the falling rocks. Without thinking, he ran across the length of the shelter and threw himself down beside Ferron. The Avatar's eyes reflected the flames, all the blood draining out of his face as the heat reached him. "Hold still," Terrin ordered, moving his hands over the stone hands pinning Ferron to the wall. They crumbled as soon as he touched them.

"Let's get out of here," he said, pulling Ferron to his feet. "Before the walls collapse in on us."

Ferron knelt down and snatched his backpack off the ground. Terrin tugged his wrist impatiently. "We can get it later."

"It's fine. We're fine."

He didn't _look _fine. Crimson streamed down his face, originating at the center of a scarlet splotch in his hair.

Terrin allowed the Avatar to grab his sleeping bag before finally dragging him out of the collapsing shelter. His decision to leave came just in time; as soon as they were out, the remaining half of the shelter collapsed atop the Dai Li agents trapped inside. The Avatar stared at the rubble, dropping his belongings.

"You think they're dead?" Ferron asked, after a few seconds of silence.

_You'd have to be pretty lucky to live through that, _Terrin thought. Instead, he said, "Best not stick around to find out. Where's that ostrich-horse?" He looked around until he spotted the saddled beast. It had broken its harness in its desperation to distance itself from the collapsing shelter, but after a brief inspection, Terrin decided the saddle was still serviceable.

He turned back to Ferron. "Port Mao's not far from here. You think you can hold out till we get there?"

Ferron looked back at him, blinking as if he couldn't understand. Then, slowly, he nodded. "I think so."

"Good." _Because my first aid kit is buried under the rubble. _He led the ostrich-horse to the Avatar. Ferron pulled himself up, seeming to gain better control of himself with each passing second.

"You're bleeding," Ferron said suddenly, reaching over as if to touch his face. Terrin jerked back, wiping the blood from his lip.

"Worry about yourself first," he grumbled. "_I'm _fine."

The Avatar frowned, his expression clearing a bit. "Thank you."

Terrin snorted. "For what?"

Ferron buried his heels in the beast's sides, spurring it forward. "For not turning me over to them."

* * *

><p>The winds were with them, and they reached Yue Bay almost four days sooner than Meira had expected. As Avatar Aang's statue rose from the horizon, she slowed, crouching down to shake her sister awake. "Zelda, wake up. We're almost there."<p>

The firebender stirred, then blinked rapidly. "It's still dark out."

"The sun will be up soon. But look." She pointed toward the iconic statue. Zelda crawled out of her sleeping bag, her hands seeking the edge of the ice raft. Her eyes widened, zeroing in on the statue, and a smile bloomed on her face for the first time in days. She tried to stand, almost losing her footing.

"Well, let's _go_," she said.

Meira grinned at her sister's exuberance, feeling much warmer than she had a few minutes ago. She brought a wall of water from the ocean and used it to push them toward the bay. Lights glittered across the city, stretching higher into the sky than any building Meira had ever seen. After several lonely days at sea, the sight was a welcome one. It pushed her sore arms to rotate faster, catching the water and propelling their ice raft forward. Compared to the bitter winds of the North Pole, the temperate ocean breeze was a caress.

"Look," Zelda said, pointing off to the side of the city. "Flying fish!"

Meira tilted her head in the indicated direction, then sighed. The silvery fish seemed to bounce off the surface of the water, the black membrane of their wings almost swallowed up by the darkened horizon. If she had to guess, these were some sort of fish-bat cross, though the exact species eluded her. "Again, your love of ugly animals astounds me."

"They're not _ugly_."

"You said that about the turtle seals, too, back at . . ." She trailed off, biting her lip, but the damage was already done. Zelda had lost her smile, and was now staring at the winged fish as if they held some sacred, forbidden wisdom.

"Back at home," Zelda finished for her a moment later, still watching the flying fish dive between water and air. "It's okay. You can say it."

"I just . . ." She hesitated, making a wide circle with her arms to justify her pause. "I miss home, that's all."

"You were the one who wanted to leave." The firebender's voice carried no note of accusation, but Meira cringed anyway.

"Yes, I know. I was just . . . I didn't want to get married yet, especially not to those awful suitors."

"Were they really that bad?"

"They were _horrible_." She shuddered, remembering how her boredom had morphed to outright disgust the longer she'd entertained them.

Zelda frowned, pulling her gaze from the fish-bat hybrids. Her gaze was direct, probing.

"What?" Meira asked.

"Nothing."

Meira propelled their ice raft closer to the city lights. They'd been visible for a while now, but until she'd seen the Avatar memorial, she hadn't been sure of their location. Father had taught her how to navigate over open waters, and the islands on the map had matched up well enough with the islands they'd passed, but after a while, she'd lost the perfect accuracy of direction, instead following the sun and stars in their steady but unreliable patterns.

This sky was unfamiliar to her. Though she could identify key constellations, they all seemed _off_, a few degrees away from where she expected them to be. At home, she likely wouldn't have noticed an astrological anomaly unless it was pointed out to her, but here, in unfamiliar seas, the subtle differences in the night sky left her sense of direction wanting.

Still, being this close to her destination made any unease about her navigational abilities slip to the back of her mind. She kept pushing them closer, sometimes fighting the current, sometimes riding with it. If she _reached _for it, she could feel the unstable surface currents moving about beneath her. If she reached farther, she could feel the inexorable tug of more prominent, stable currents. The water was deep here, considering how close they were to land. She knew Republic City had been crafted by Avatar Aang, of course, pulled from the more natural landmasses. It was close to normal, realistic in its geography, but it wasn't _quite_ natural, didn't _quite _follow the patterns she expected, and she shoved their raft closer to the city.

"Homesick?"

Zelda's voice pulled her out of her reverie. She looked over at her younger sister. "Huh?"

"You were staring off into space. You still feeling homesick, or something?"

"Oh." She frowned. "Not really. I mean, I guess I miss the house, and Mom and Dad, but . . . I'd rather be here." _Taking care of my little sister until she can take care of herself, _she added silently.

Zelda looked at her, her eyes almost black in the darkness. When several seconds had passed, the firebender turned back toward Republic City. "We're finally here. We're going to find me a firebending teacher."

_And once we do, I have to go back to the North Pole and explain this whole mess to Dad. _Their raft slowed.

"It's pretty," Zelda said. "Like they captured all the stars in the sky and stacked them together to make a city."

_I don't _have _to go back, _she thought. _I could write Dad a letter. _Her frown, so comfortable now on her face, deepened. Her grandfather had never opted for radio, or television, or any kind of communication system beyond writing letters, and her father had upheld that tradition.

_It'll take days for my letter to reach the North Pole, _she thought. _And at least two days more for a reply to get back here. I'll have at least a week in Republic City before I'm ordered to return, maybe longer if we have trouble finding Zelda a teacher. Surely Dad will agree that Zelda should learn firebending. Mom will be so happy to have her youngest child master her bending art, just like me. _

Unlike the bending-operated gates of the Northern Water Tribe, the city gates here ran on steam technology. Meira could see water vapor shooting out of release valves at the tops of the gates, see the condensation forming on the outside of the metal pipes. The landmass had been built by earthbending, but Republic City had ultimately thrived because of the rapid boost in steam technology over a century ago, and though technology had continued to advance since then, some fragments of the original city still remained.

"So, are we sneaking in, or are we just going to go through the gates?" Zelda asked.

"Why would we sneak in?"

"Well, you said you didn't want anyone to know our names."

"Yes, but that was for the way there. I didn't want any more pirates coming after us."

Zelda frowned, her hand moving to her temple. Only a slight swelling remained near her eye where she'd been struck. "So we're going to start using our real names again?"

"I guess. I don't know. Should we go through?"

Zelda hesitated, then nodded. "I'm ready. I want to find a firebending teacher."

Meira pulled the lever controlling the gates. Steam shot up from the relief valves as the old metal bars parted ways for them. _Republic City, here we come._

* * *

><p>The Earth Prince watched his nephew toddle toward him, clutching a stone block in his hand. "Come here, Omashu," he urged gently, holding his arms out and waiting for the child to remember his existence.<p>

The three-year-old looked up, holding the stone block in front of his chest. His shirt collar had gone crooked in his play, and the left side of his head was spiked disarrayed tufts of hair.

"O_ma_shu," the prince called again, almost singing the boy's name.

Suddenly, the toddler grinned and ran toward him. "Uncle Yumao, I'm an _earthbender_!"

A grin crept across his lips without permission. He had to be stoic when appearing before visitors, but here, in his study, he could relax. "I know," he said, plucking the child from the floor and letting his feet dangle in the air. A laugh burst from the child's mouth as Yumao let him bounce, and his own smile widened in response.

Then the door slid open, and he banished the smile from his face. "You're back early, Brother," he said, voice level.

Yoru's voice cut through Omashu's giggle, low and intense. "I have news from Father."

The child seemed to take no notice of his father's aloofness, wriggling free of Yumao's grip and running straight to the older man. "Daddy!"

"What's the news?" Yumao asked. _Calm down, _he told himself, forcing his lips to settle into a flat line. _Just because Father has news doesn't mean you're in trouble. _

"Actually, it's news about me. I'm going to war."

He nodded; that didn't surprise him. His older brother had been born to lead, and years of being groomed for the throne had only refined his instincts. "What else?" Yumao asked, knowing his brother wouldn't have made a personal visit just to report the obvious. _And if he'd just been picking up Omashu, he would've sent Xing or the nanny. _

"Fire Nation troops are massing at the Dragon's Tooth. We're ready for an attack. We're expecting them to strike a few hundred miles south of Republic City, somewhere along the coast. It's possible they might use airships left over from Sozin's War, but anything they have for an air force will be an antique compared to what we have."

He nodded. "So you're confident in our victory."

"I'm going out on the front lines."

He balked. "Yoru—you . . . What purpose will that serve?"

"It will give my men courage. You can't ask soldiers to fight while their commander watches from behind. Plus, being on the front lines will eliminate the possibility of me getting killed in an assault at our tail. The risks are hardly different."

"Is this Father's idea?"

A ghost of annoyance passed over his brother's face. "No. I volunteered. Which means if I get killed, you're next in line for the throne."

"But your son—"

"—is too young to be in charge of a nation. I've talked to Father about it. Until Omashu comes of age, you're officially my heir." Yoru pulled something from his pocket and tossed it his way; Yumao caught it reflexively. "Sign that. Once you do, your claim will supersede my son's."

"Why are you doing this?" he demanded. "You and Father are both still alive. There's no point in doing this now."

"I know. I'm ready to fight this war. My son is not. If we let a child lead our country like the Fire Nation, we can't expect to become conquerors." He stepped forward. Omashu released his calf and toddled back over to the stack of stone blocks he'd abandoned a few minutes ago. "I'm not signing over everything. This is just my contingency plan. Also, when you die, Omashu will still come before any of your children in the line for the throne. All this document will do is put you between my son and the assassins."

Yumao relaxed, strangely relieved. He knew he ought to be furious—being used as a shield should've been well beneath a prince, even a second-born. But if it was between him and his own blood, however distant . . . He looked down. "Does Xing know about this?"

"My wife knows everything I do."

"How long before the offer expires?"

"It expires when the war ends, or when you decide to burn that document."

He looked at the scroll. "So I have some time to think on it. I can even sign it after you die?"

"Yes. And knowing you, that's probably when you _will _sign it."

"Are you accusing me of procrastinating?"

"I'm accusing you of thinking too much."

Yumao looked up again. Allowed himself to smile. Watched his older brother smile back at him for the first time in weeks. "I'll think about it."

"Good. One more thing."

His stomach dropped, and he wondered if his brother's offer wasn't going to be the heaviest burden on his mind after all. "What is it?"

"Father wants to speak to you as soon as you're free." Yoru's lips curved up in a grin that twisted daggers of anxiety in his stomach. Yumao gulped, bracing himself. The blow was even harder than he'd expected. "He means to wed you to the water tribe princess."

He flinched. "I'm only twenty-three," he mumbled. "I can't get married."

"You can't keep seeing concubines while you have an image to uphold."

"I'm _not_," he squeaked. His brother arched an eyebrow. "I haven't . . . Yoru, it's been _months_."

"All the more reason for you to get a wife before your cock falls off from disuse."

He balked. _And _I'm _the one who needs to work on my image?_

"Daddy," Omashu said, tugging on the fabric of Yoru's pants. "What does 'cock' mean?"

Yumao's head dropped into his hands. _Oh, spirits. _

Yoru picked up the curious toddler. "It means an adult chicken. But don't say it around your mother." He slung the little earthbender over his shoulder. "You should go talk to Father. I've got to get Omashu back to Xing so she can get him ready for the banquet tonight." Without another word, Yoru turned and strode out of the room.

Omashu peered over his father's shoulder and waved. "Bye Uncle Yumao!"

Yumao waved back, fear settling in his stomach. The door shut with a sound of finality.


	17. Sibling Rivalry

Chapter Seventeen

Yumao knelt at the base of the throne, head bowed. "You wanted to speak with me, Father?"

The king rose from his seat, casting a shadow over the Earth Prince. Yumao bit his lip, staring at the tiled floor. "Yes," King Haran said. "I take it your brother spoke to you?"

"Yes, Father. About the change he's proposing: I know Omashu is too young to take the throne in the event of—"

His father waved off the words. "That's not why I called you here; I fully approve of Yoru's decision to put you before his son in the royal line, at least for now. What concerns _me _is getting the water tribes on our side. We need allies to win this war, and a fleet of waterbenders will aid us greatly. The greatest concentration of them is at the North Pole, though I am requesting assistance from their sister tribe, as well. The best way to solidify an alliance is for you—one of the most important people in this country apart from myself and your older brother—to marry the princess of the Northern Water Tribe."

"I respect your decision, Father, but are you certain this is a wise course of action? When the war ends, we'll inevitably need to make peace with the Fire Nation, to bring them under our control. Wouldn't it be better to leave me unmarried in case we need to relieve tension with the Fire Nation later?"

"Are you so against marriage?"

Yumao shrunk back, bowing his head again. "I only meant to suggest an alternate route, Your Majesty."

King Haran shook his head. "We cannot bet on a victory we haven't been ensured yet."

_Then why did we go to war in the first place? _he wanted to ask. He bit his tongue, reminding himself of the consequences of disobedience.

"I've been exchanging letters with Chief Narue for the past eleven months regarding a potential match. The last time I wrote, he agreed that his oldest daughter was of age to marry. If I had had it my way, you would've been married two years ago, when she turned sixteen, and she would've had a child on the way by now. Your child. My grandchild."

Yumao nodded, feeling numb. _I can't get married, _he thought. _I can't have _kids_. _

"If your sister had lived long enough to bear children of her own, I might not have cause to worry about the royal line," the king said. Yumao flinched, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. His sister's death was still a sore spot in the family. _Why would Father bring it up? Does he mean to guilt me into matrimony? _

The king went on, pacing slowly on the dais. The look in his gold eyes seemed to indicate he wasn't seeing the Earth Kingdom flags on the walls. "Luck held strong to this nation when I was born. My mother was nearly infertile—I was the only child she ever had, the only heir to the Earth Kingdom. While the situation isn't so precarious now, you still have a duty to father children of my blood to preserve the line. You _will _get married."

He bowed his head. "Yes, Father."

"Good. Now, get ready for the gala. I want you at your best. We have a representative from each of the water tribes visiting this evening."

That was news. Yumao swallowed. _I'll have to formally agree to the upcoming marriage. If I go, it'll be set in stone. _

"You're dismissed," his father added.

He rose hastily from his crouch and gave one final bow before hurrying back to his bedroom to prepare for the festivities.

Four hours. Four hours before he'd have to talk to the ambassadors, and then there would be no going back.

* * *

><p>Ferron paced like a prisoner in a cell.<p>

"Sit down," Terrin grumbled, watching. "You're making me nervous just looking at you."

"What if they send another batch of Dai Li agents after us before the boat arrives? They won't underestimate us this time. They'll drag us back to Ba Sing Se in chains."

The earthbender groaned, leaning against a smooth spot in the otherwise jagged wall. Port Mao was protected on every side, either by the towering natural cliffs or by the sea. One of the fringe benefits was the almost permanent stretch of shade provided by the cliffs. "Look, if you're worried about getting caught, you should be practicing your earthbending, not pacing like an idiot."

"I'm not going to learn any useful earthbending in the hour and a half before the boat—"

"And that's why you suck at earthbending!" Terrin snapped. "Look, if you want to get better, you take every opportunity to practice you can. You don't have to work for three hour stretches like you do in lessons. Even if it's only five minutes, you can practice."

Ferron shook his head, as if the point was arguable. "I don't think you understand."

_Idiot. _"What I _understand_ is that you're the Avatar, and the Avatar is supposed to master all the elements, including the one they're born with."

The Avatar bowed his head in shame, but Terrin took little joy from seeing him back down. _If he doesn't toughen up, both our hides are on the line. I have to make him understand. _"Look, I'll show you some stuff, and maybe you won't be quite so helpless next time we get into a fight. Come on."

Uncertainly, the Avatar edged forward. Terrin walked to his side and took a basic defensive stance. "Don't worry about the earthbending part now. Just imitate my movements."

Ferron nodded and matched his stance, feet wide apart, hands raised to block.

Terrin moved through one of his old bending forms, making sure every step was perfect, powerful. He lunged forward, shifting into a back stance, both knees slightly bent. His arm came down in a short arc, so his knuckles ended up pointing down to the ground. He waited for Ferron to imitate his actions, then moved to the next step, sliding his left foot out and blocking downward, fist hovering just above his knee. The earth in front of him rose in a toothy ridge.

The Avatar mimicked his movement, without the earthbending part. Terrin met his eyes and nodded once in approval before continuing to the next stance.

They worked like that for half an hour, repeating the form a dozen or so times. Ferron picked it up rather quickly, and Terrin wondered if the Avatar remembered it from his early earthbending training, or if he was merely a quick study when it came to the physical aspect of bending.

"Okay," Terrin said, sliding away and flattening the ground again so Ferron wouldn't trip. "Do you think you can remember all the steps without my help?"

Ferron thought about that for a minute, his hand going to the bandages wrapped around his head. He was still recovering from the blows he'd suffered during the Dai Li's attack, but according to Port Mao's doctor, the damage to his head wasn't too serious. "Yeah. I can remember it."

Terrin stepped back and waited. "Okay. Go."

Ferron took the beginning stance, breathed, and lunged forward, going through the movements. Terrin watched, scrutinizing every detail. "More power," he commanded, crossing his arms. "Don't think about earthbending. Pretend you're punching me in the face."

A small smile found its way to Ferron's lips; his next punch was much more forceful.

_Great. I can motivate him by making him want to hurt me. That won't backfire or anything. _"Keep breathing. You need to breathe. Good."

Ferron reached the halfway point in the form, sliding his foot out in an imitation of a rock slide. Fissures spread out on the ground in front of him, jagged stones shooting up from the previously flat surface. The damage spread for several feet, fanning out to leave a triangle-shaped swath of destruction.

The Avatar froze, staring at the displaced earth. His body relaxed, arms drifting out of place.

"Continue your form," Terrin snapped. "You don't have time to stop and gawk during a fight."

The words seemed to fluster the Avatar. He half-turned, then hesitated. Several seconds passed before he moved to the next part of the form, and even then, his control was poor, every movement clumsy. Terrin corrected several faults in his posture before the Avatar returned to his previous proficiency.

When he was finished with the form, Ferron turned back to the ground he'd moved, staring at it as if it might rise up and attack him.

"What is it?" Terrin finally asked.

"I . . . I've never moved that much earth at once."

The patch of damage was about seven feet long, half that at its final width. Terrin opened his mouth to say he'd been able to move that much earth with ease by age seven, then settled back, saying nothing. Any progress was good, even if his companion was still absolutely pathetic as an earthbender. "You want to take a picture or something?"

"I don't have a camera."

Terrin shrugged. "Want me to level it out so you can keep practicing, or do you think you can do it yourself?"

Ferron must've heard the challenge in his voice, because he stepped forward, taking a deep breath. He lifted his foot, keeping his arms curled in close to his sides for balance. _Decent form, _Terrin thought, as the Avatar brought his heel down. The loose rocks shuffled, some cracking under the strain, some actually rising higher from the ground. The focus on the Avatar's face shifted to embarrassment.

"Keep trying," Terrin said. "Smoother motions. Imagine you're physically smoothing away the damage."

The Avatar's muddy brown eyes found his, lips parting as if in a silent plea for help. When Terrin gave no response, his charge's face evened out. _Come on, _he thought. _Figure it out, damn it._

Ferron changed stances, body relaxing slightly. He slid his foot out, slowly at first, then snapping to a wider stance. The stones buckled and flattened, some crumbling to dirt. A scar remained in the dirt, the repair clumsy and obvious, but smooth enough that neither of them would trip over it. Terrin nodded. "That's good. Now, let's see if you can get the same result if you do the form again."

Ferron nodded, stepping back to his starting position and taking his stance. Terrin gave him the go-ahead and watched him move through the form.

It actually took several tries for the Avatar to reproduce his earlier success, but his face brightened as soon as he achieved the desired result, and he transitioned to the next part of the form much more readily than he had before.

After a while, Terrin joined him again, reawakening his old habits. His teachers still made him practice forms, of course, but the ones he'd been working on the past couple years had all been considerably more advanced, preparing him for metalbending while still sharpening his base earthbending skills. Going back to the basics was relaxing, like returning to an abandoned hobby and still being proficient at it.

When Ferron stopped in the middle of his form an hour later, Terrin froze, scanning the area for dangers. Ferron pointed toward the shore. "The boat is here!"

Terrin looked toward the sea, squinting into the setting sun. When he saw the red letters labeling the _Kiss of Yue, _his lips stretched into a grin. He stooped down to pick up his new backpack, which he'd received, along with provisions, in exchange for fortifying Port Mao's protective walls.

Beside him, Ferron picked up what remained of his own belongings, slinging them over his shoulders and grinning like a child getting ready for his first day of school. "You've got the tickets, right?" Ferron asked, already several steps ahead of him.

Terrin rolled his eyes and pulled the slips of paper from his pocket. "Yeah, I got 'em."

"Good." He started forward again, still grinning broadly. "To Republic City."

* * *

><p>"What do you <em>mean <em>there are no open spaces?"

Freya sighed, head dropping into her hands. Her mother had been arguing with various low-level officials for almost an hour now, while her father stood at her side, silent and intimidating.

At first, Freya had been as dismayed as her parents had been. The letter had suggested they come to the Second Ring of New Haran to procure a home; it was shameful to have no accommodations for a family of their rank. Her great-great-uncle had married a princess. A Second Ring residence should've been easy to procure.

But then she'd remembered the beggar they'd seen on their way in, shaking an almost empty bowl as rich people passed him by. Maybe there really _wasn't _room, if the city was denying space to its long-time residents.

Kotai had found a discarded yo-yo on the sidewalk on their way in. Freya considered the simply toy a small mercy. Seven years her junior, her brother was still entertained by cheap toys. Watching him play was preferable to listening to her mother's increasingly-frustrated arguments.

"Ma'am, I apologize, but all available space has already been reserved for incoming nobles," said the city hall employee who was currently cowering under the force of her mother's gaze. Freya felt a stab of pity, seeing the way the old woman's knees trembled.

"We _are _nobility. My great uncle married Princess Shireen, and I demand respect."

Freya looked down, watching her feet dangle over the edge of the bench. This place would've been spacious enough for several families to live in, if there had been domestic appliances. She was actually starting to consider closing her eyes and taking a nap right here on this bench. The cushions were certainly comfortable enough.

"Excuse me."

Her head jerked up at the voice, her shock crippling her speech for several seconds before she managed a response. "Yes?"

The black-haired stranger leaned forward slightly, hands behind his back like a child about to present a gift to their crush. His eyes were dark blue, like the space between the stars at night. The hairs on the back of Freya's neck rose when he spoke. "I was wondering . . . Are those _your _parents?"

Freya gritted her teeth, rising from the bench so she was on her feet. Even in high heels, the man stood four inches taller than her; she had to look up to meet his eyes. "They are," she said, curt but polite. "May I ask why you wish to know?"

"Well I have a _luxurious _mansion in the Third Ring. If you don't mind being surrounded by street urchins."

"My parents are looking for a place to stay in the Second Ring."

The man made a dismissive gesture. "Madam, I know the Second Ring carries more prestige, but I assure you, my Third Ring mansion outshines any piddling apartment in this part of town."

A few feet away, her mother berated the employee she'd been hounding for the past ten minutes. "You obviously have no concept for how to treat a prestigious family! I want to speak to your boss, and when he grants our family a place to live, _as promised_, I assure you, I will do everything in my power to make sure he terminates your employment here."

"My boss is a _woman_, for your information."

It took everything Freya had not to groan. The poor woman had to be at her wit's end if that was the cleverest response she could come up with. Her mother had steamrolled right over her.

Freya forced her attention back to the stranger in front of her. "I'm sure my parents would be relieved to find any accommodations, regardless of their . . ." Her eyes slid over to her parents. ". . . insistence on high-class living."

The black-haired man bowed. Not the kind of respectful bow that might be exchanged between a student and their teacher, but a grand, sweeping gesture like those performed by actors in theatres. Freya merely inclined her head in acknowledgment as the stranger swept over to her parents.

She hated to admit it, but she was rather hoping her mother would steamroll over _him, _too. _What kind of creep offers to let a bunch of total strangers live in their house without even learning their names first? _she wondered, sinking down into the cushions and setting herself to endure another half hour of angry chatter before some higher official came down and granted them what they wanted or expelled them from the city altogether.

She was betting on the latter.

But it was strange. Mere minutes after she'd allowed the dark-haired stranger to try his luck swaying her parents, her mother quieted. The employee who'd been working with them for the past ten minutes stayed, watching the conversation unfold with a look of exasperation, then quietly slipped away as her mother grew more withdrawn, more attentive.

"Well," her mother finally said, crossing her arms in front of her chest and looking at the tiled floor. "I am grateful for the courtesy, and I humbly accept your offer."

Freya blinked, gawking at them. Her father met her gaze, his eyes steely blue like _his_ mother's. When he beckoned her forward, she stood and nudged Kotai with her elbow. Her brother glanced up from his yo-yo, then followed her as she approached her parents.

"Freya, this kind man has invited us to stay at his house until we can find a place of our own. Isn't that wonderful?"

She looked up at the dark-haired man. "And may I ask the name of this kind man?"

Again, he bowed like a circus performer begging for an encore. "You may call me Irruk."

She blinked rapidly. "A water tribe name. You—"

"I don't look water tribe, I know. Unfortunately, I inherited my looks from my father. Good man, but not especially handsome."

"So are you a waterbender, or something else?"

"_Freya_," her mother said in the same voice she might've used to command an ostrich-horse. "Don't be so brazen. I'm sorry, Mister Irruk. My daughter sometimes forgets herself and asks improper questions. Truly, it is only curiosity that motivates her."

Irruk made a dismissive gesture, smiling. "No, I'm not a bender." He turned back to her, taking her hand and planting a kiss on her knuckles. Freya resisted the urge to rip her hand away. "Please, my Lady, feel free to ask anything of me. I am honored to house such a noble family."

"We are grateful for your hospitality," her mother said, bowing. Her father followed suit, still stoic and silent.

"Let's go now," Irruk said. "I'm sure you're all exhausted after your travels and wish to freshen up. I promise you, I have ample facilities for all your needs." He started for the glass double-doors, glancing back and grinning at her.

Freya cast a quick glance in her parents' direction to make sure they weren't paying attention, then returned his smirk with a glare. _Too smooth, _she thought, the muscles in her back going rigid as his smile widened. _You're as slippery as a rotting fish if you can finagle your way into my mother's good graces._

Kotai walked by her side, still playing with his yo-yo. When Irruk finally turned away, the ten-year-old rose to his tiptoes and whispered into her ear. "Seems a little too convenient, don't you think? He has a nice house, but he just _happened _to be wandering around here, where people request living arrangements."

Freya nodded. "Keep your guard up on this one, okay? I don't like him." _I can almost see the slime running down his back. _

They stepped out of City Hall and into the dusk.

* * *

><p>"Can you work?"<p>

Meira looked up at the building manager, trying to appear more hopeful than she felt. This was the third apartment complex they'd tried, and her feet were starting to ache. The people from the first two buildings they'd visited had _laughed _at her when she'd claimed to be the princess of the Northern Water Tribe, and though this man had yet to scoff at her claims, he also had yet to crack a smile.

"Well, actually," Zelda said, stepping forward and tilting her head up to look at him. "my sister and I haven't had any vocational training except what was required for women of nobility. We're eager to learn, but—"

He cut her off. "I don't need _learners, _I need _workers_. I need people who know how to cook, or clean, or scrape dried cheese off the arcade floor. Though I regret sending away two young noblewomen, I can pick someone off the street who knows how to do all that and who needs this job more than you two."

"That's not fair!" Zelda squeaked. "We're smart. We can figure it out as we go."

The man sighed and poked his head out a window. "Hey, kids!" he yelled to a group of passing teenagers. They lifted their heads, wary. "Any of you know how to cook or clean?"

They all shouted affirmatives. Meira winced.

The man closed the window and drew the curtains. "You see? If I needed a position filled, all I'd have to do is call out to the nearest group of street rats and have them fill in until I can get a professional."

Meira let out a gusty sigh. "Isn't there any way we can stay here, just for _one _month, until I can get my father to send us money for rent?"

"I don't rent out rooms for promises, I rent them out for money. Come back when you have eight-hundred Yuan. I'd be glad to have two high-class women such as yourselves living in my establishment."

_But not glad enough to let us stay without paying rent._

Zelda pitched forward, grabbing the man's sleeve and keeping him from walking away. "Now hold on just a minute—"

"Zelda, let him go. We'll find someplace else to stay."

"Meira, it's _dark _outside."

"We'll light a fire."

"But _sister_—"

"I've gotten you this far," she snapped. "Don't start acting out on me now."

Fury flashed across Zelda's face, but she released the man's arm. "Fine. This building smells like rotting fish anyway."

Meira didn't smell anything, but she let it go, following her sister into the lobby and out the doors. "At least it's Spring. This close to the ocean, it should stay warm through the night." _Unless it storms, _she thought, looking up at the sky. The stars were gone, blocked by the opaque clouds swaddling the sky. "Come on. The map said there was a big park right in the middle of the city. We can camp out there for the night."

Zelda gave an exasperated sigh. "Great. My sleeping bag took a dip in Yue Bay and now I have to sleep in it."

Meira looked down. Getting into Yue Bay had been easy. Getting out had been considerably more difficult. The steep, manmade shoreline, adapted to better serve the people of Republic City, had made for an awkward landing by the Silk Road Bridge. When they'd tried to abandon their ice raft, it had tipped, spilling their belongings into the bay. With her waterbending, she'd managed to save most of their belongings, but anything that absorbed water was still soaking wet, despite her best attempts to dry everything, and would remain damp until it laid in the sun for a few hours.

"We'll sleep on the grass," she said. "It's safer than trying to sleep on ice." She'd done that once, and discovered the pain of frostbite.

Zelda's response dripped sarcasm. "Great. I'm so glad we won't freeze to death."

"You were the one who wanted to find a firebending teacher. If we'd had it my way, we would've been on our way home by now."

"If you'd had it your way, you'd have run off on your own and probably gotten raped and killed by pirates."

Meira sucked in a shocked breath. "_Zelda_!"

"What? It's _true_."

She looked away, burying her teeth in her lower lip to bite back the retorts fighting their way out of her throat. She strode forward, taking the lead. The firebender followed her, grumbling.

They'd just reached the park when Zelda decided to speak at a normal volume. "Meira?"

The uncertainty in her sister's tone prompted Meira to swallow her irritation. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry I said those things. I'm sure you would've been better off without having to worry about me."

Meira stopped and turned back. "Zelda . . ."

"I just . . . I know you wanted to leave on your own, and I know you want to go back to the North Pole now that there's a war going on. I wouldn't blame you if you just left me here."

"Zelda, don't be ridiculous. You're my _sister_."

"I know, but . . ." Zelda sighed heavily, a wisp of flame shooting out of her mouth. Her dark brown eyes found Meira's, and the waterbender was shocked to see the thin film of saltwater over them. Zelda took a shaky breath. "I _know_, but . . ."

Meira took several steps forward and wrapped her arms around Zelda's shoulders. "You're my sister," she repeated firmly. "I'm going to take care of you. It's not a burden or a duty, it's what big sisters are supposed to do. Look, even though we don't have any place to stay or any idea how to go about finding a firebending teacher, things are going to be okay, because we're both here, and we're together. Okay?"

Zelda wrapped her dainty little arms around Meira's torso, burying her face in the blue fabric of her coat. Meira felt her nod.

_Well, _she thought, holding Zelda closer. _So much for going home._

* * *

><p>Candlelight flickered inside frosted glass globes.<p>

Yumao leaned over the balcony railing, watching the guests twirl in delicate circles on the dance floor. If he stared long enough, his vision blurred and instead of seeing people, he saw splotches of color blending together over the dark green carpet.

"Trying to figure out which one is your new wife?"

Yumao jumped half a foot in the air, then whirled around to face his brother. "Yoru? I thought you were leaving to go to war."

"After the gala."

Yoru's earlier words started to sink in. "My new wife? I didn't think she was here."

"Oh, she's not. But you're looking around like a lost puppy." Yoru arched an eyebrow, smirking. "Trying for one more round in the field before you have to settle down?"

Yumao sighed, tilting his head back to look at the spheres suspended from the ceiling. Each sported a tiny candle, with enough wax to last until the end of the party. The glass spheres hung from the ceiling by varying lengths of chain, providing mood lighting.

Why his father insisted on using candles when light bulbs were cheaper and brighter eluded him.

"You know, I wouldn't mind getting married so much if I actually knew the woman I'm marrying. I haven't even met this princess. For all I know, she could be a serial killer."

Yoru chuckled, turning to one of the servers as she offered him a glass of white wine. "You know, if you don't end up liking her, there are always concubines."

Yumao glanced around, paranoid that his brother's wife would appear out of nowhere, as she often did when they got into such conversations. Not that Yoru was actually cheating on Xing, but it had to hurt her knowing he'd considered it. "Brother," Yumao said reproachfully. "you should be more cautious with what you say."

A low voice cut in from his right. "Prince Yumao, would you like some wine?"

He waved the black-haired server away. "No, thank you."

She bowed her head and slinked off. Yumao turned back to his brother. "You shouldn't talk about things like that. You know Xing is at this party."

Yoru shrugged. "She's busy dancing. Besides, I'm going off to war in three days. If having a personal concubine around keeps me from smashing my subordinates' noses, then I'd say you ought to be happy I'm bringing one."

"You are not." His shoulders sagged as he read the perfect sincerity in his brother's eyes. Just as Yoru was about to lift his wineglass to his lips for his first drink, Yumao stepped forward. "Brother, that'll cause a scandal and you know it."

He lowered the glass, arching an eyebrow. "Really? Like your three-year long _adventure _in the brothels turned into a scandal?"

Yumao's body went rigid, and he glanced around again, suddenly afraid that someone had overheard. "It's not a scandal," he hissed, hunching his shoulders. "You and Father are the only ones who know. Besides, it's different. I'm not _married_."

"But you will be soon. And once you are, you'll appreciate the wisdom of paying a few high-class concubines to slip into your bedroom when you're wife's not there."

Yumao's hand twitched toward his brother. Only the knowledge that Yoru could beat him in a brawl kept him from actually striking. He bowed his head. "When I get married, I'm going to make vows as part of the ceremony. Whether you believe me or not, I intend to keep those vows."

"Says the man who doesn't want to get married."

"Then don't believe me!" he snapped, turning away to look at the dancers. "It doesn't concern you who I sleep with, so let's just drop it, all right?"

Yoru chuckled. "You truly are my brother." He lifted his wineglass to his lips and took a sip, smirking to himself. "You have a tendency for denial and an aversion to marriage. You'll get over . . ."

Something about Yoru's voice made Yumao turn back to look him in the eye. Yoru was staring at his wineglass, his eyes glazed over as if deep in thought. When he spoke, his voice was slurred. "This wine tastes kinda . . . funny."

"Brother?"

Yoru blinked slowly, like a reptile. "Yumao, can I . . ." He swayed, wine spilling over the side of his glass.

"Yoru? Brother? What's going on? Are you okay?"

"Hey, how come everything's so bright? It seems awfully bright for candlelight."

Panic lanced through Yumao's heart. He reached forward, catching his brother's arm as the wine glass slipped through his fingers.

Distantly, he was aware of the sound of glass shattering against the floor, and the shift in light as something disturbed the flickering glass spheres. Then he watched his brother crumple to the ground and all he could hear was screaming.


	18. Republic City Revelations

Chapter Eighteen

"Yoru!" Yumao cried, hand snaking out to keep his brother from collapsing. Yoru's wineglass had shattered against the tiled floor, allowing the deep red wine to pool amongst the jagged shards, like blood spreading out around a body. _The wine_, Yumao thought, staring at the scarlet splotch. _Someone slipped poison into his wine. _He lifted his head. "Get the healers! Somebody get help!"

If there was one good thing about being a prince—even the second-in-line—it was that someone was always ready to take orders. Servants flocked around him, moving too quickly for him to recognize any of the faces. Already, he could see a trio of waterbenders from the palace infirmary bursting through the doors.

"Don't you die on me," Yumao said, grabbing Yoru's shirt.

His brother's eyes, hazy with whatever poison had been slipped into his wine, rolled up to his. With surprising strength, Yoru gripped his forearm and pulled him down. "Find Xing. Tell her I'm sorry."

_Sorry for what? _he wondered, as the healers encircled his brother. In seconds, Yoru's body was cloaked in luminescent water.

"I think he was poisoned," Yumao said, swaying as he stood. One of the waterbenders glanced up at him, then barked out an order to his subordinates. Another pulled something from her medical kit and poured it down Yoru's throat. The earthbender's body jerked once, then doubled over. Yoru made what was probably the most undignified sound of his life, then threw up all over the balcony floor.

"Prince Yumao, you need to get to safety."

He turned toward the voice, startled out of his fixation. He didn't recognize the speaker, but the cone-shaped hat and bright green cloak made the man's position quite obvious.

"My brother . . ." He looked back at Yoru, still retching all over the floor. The healers had clustered around him, almost like a human shell, and were examining the rest of his body for injuries.

"Come, Your Grace," said the Dai Li agent. "It's dangerous here."

Yumao spun, staring out at the ballroom from the balcony. Shouts of alarm rose through the air, some shrill with fear, others booming with urgency. Most of the flickering glass globes had either shattered from some unseen force, or continued to burn brighter than the candles within should've allowed. _Firebenders, _he thought. _There must be firebenders here._

The thought struck him as odd. As a prince, he'd been attending such parties for years. Having a variety of guests, firebenders included, kept the galas interesting, productive. It allowed gossip to circulate, so it could later be picked apart for truths and information. Yet ever since his father had ordered the trade embargo a few months ago, the number of guests from the Fire Nation had declined. Yumao had spoken with two at the last party, and that had been six days ago. _They wouldn't let any firebenders in now_, he thought. _Someone in this room is a spy._

"Your Grace—"

He whipped around, barking out orders at the Dai Li agent even as they popped into his head. "Close all the doors immediately. Under no circumstances do you allow anyone out of this room until I clear them."

The man bowed. "Yes, sir."

Yumao turned back to his brother, kneeling beside him. "Yoru, can you hear me?"

His brother's glazed eyes panned up to meet his.

Yumao went on. "I'm going to find out who did this to you. I swear on my life and my rank in this family. But I have to go."

"Tell Xing—"

"That you're sorry. I know." _You said that already. Oh, spirits, you never repeat yourself . . . _His lungs fluttered uncomfortably.

Yoru grabbed his hand, gagging again, but managing not to throw up. "One more thing. Tell her to open the letter."

"What letter?"

"She'll know." He closed his eyes. "I think I'm dying."

"You're not dying." Yumao looked up at one of the healers. "Is he?"

"Too early to tell." The man stood, addressing the other waterbenders. "Bring him to the infirmary. Have him drink Blackroot Tea to neutralize the poison."

The waterbenders hoisted his brother onto a cloth stretcher and hauled him toward the stairs. Yumao spared one moment to wonder how they were going to maneuver his broad-shouldered brother down the twisting stairwell, then cleared them to leave before heading toward the throne room. _Father will still be there, entertaining guests,_ he thought, weaving through a pack of panicked girls as they darted away from an exploding lamp. Hot glass rained down on the floor. "Damn it."

One of the Dai Li intercepted him. "Prince Yumao, we've closed the doors, but—"

"Control the crowd. Calm them. Interrogate them, but don't make them feel threatened. We're looking for a firebender and a serving girl. Possibly the same person, but not necessarily."

"Yes, sir." The man vanished, shooting down the stone edges of the stairs with the grace of a skilled earthbender. Yumao envied the ease of movement, already winded as he ran down the steps after the man. He'd never been able to earthbend. Not that such a thing was unheard of, but his father had considered his inability rather unfortunate, given the lack of heirs. _Another reason Yoru can't die_, he thought. _I would shame the family if they tried to make me heir. _

At last, he reached the bottom of the steps. The lower level, sunken into the ground to give the earthbending guards more access to their element, spread out in a vast circle, filled with pockets of flustered, cowering people. "Everyone!" he shouted. When only a few people glanced over at his shout, he raised his voice. "Attention! This is the Earth Prince speaking!"

More people looked over, going silent at his command. The silence rippled out, infecting the groups near those people, and after a few seconds, all that remained of the previous bedlam was a chorus of anxious murmurs. "The situation is under control," he began, hoping the Dai Li would make his words a reality within the next thirty seconds or so. "You are all under the protection of the royal guard. No harm will come to you so long as you remain reasonable. There has been a mishap, and security is dealing with the problem presently. I need you all to cooperate with the Dai Li when they ask you questions. It's imperative to the safety of all our guests that you provide honest, straightforward answers. Thank you."

As he turned away, the murmurs picked up again. A point of pain formed in each of his temples as he walked back toward the throne room. "I need to see my father," he said to the guard in charge.

"My apologies, Prince Yumao. King Haran has specifically asked not to be disturbed."

"Does my father know what's happened?"

"Yes. He just gave the order a moment ago."

Yumao drew back. _Only a moment ago? So he specifically asked not to be disturbed when he found out there was danger at the gala? _The thought unsettled him, so his next words came out harsher than he'd intended. "What about Yoru? Does my father know about that?"

"He has been informed, Your Grace. Do you still wish to see him?"

He almost said yes. Almost. Then he remembered they were at war with the Fire Nation, and that there was an assassin on the premises, and that his father actually had a pretty good reason for barring visitors from the throne room. "No. Please continue to guard these doors." He turned away, feeling hollow.

The Fire Nation certainly acted quickly, given how devastated their capital was.

"Yumao."

_What now?_ he wondered, surprised to hear his name with no title attached. As he caught sight of his brother's wife rushing up to him, Omashu in hand, he realized why. "Xing."

"Has something happened to my husband?"

"Yes." His eyes flickered to Omashu's pudgy face. The toddler looked confused and unhappy, but not frightened. _How am I supposed to tell a three-year-old that his father might be dying? _

Tears slipped down the sides of Xing's face. "Tell me he's going to be all right." Her fingers coiled around his sleeve. "Please."

He pulled away. "Yoru's with the healers. It's too early to tell if he's going to recover." His eyes flickered again to Omashu. He'd hoped his answer had been vague enough not to upset the child, but already, Omashu's eyes were shiny with tears.

"Daddy can't get hurt. He's an earthbender."

Yumao exhaled sharply and turned back to Xing. "I talked to him before they took him away. He said to tell you he's sorry. He didn't say for what. He also wanted you to open a letter of some sort, but he didn't tell me what was in it." Yumao paused, watching Xing's face for a reaction. The woman's black eyes clouded over, and she clutched her son closer to her chest.

"I see."

"Xing, is there something in that letter I need to know about? Something Yoru wouldn't want you to see unless something . . . happened?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. I'd have to read it first. I can go—" Xing took half a step toward the doors, but Yumao lifted a hand, palm out.

"Wait. No one is allowed to leave this room until they've been cleared by me."

Anger flashed in her tawny eyes. "Then clear me so I can get the letter."

Yumao kept his voice soft enough so even attentive ears wouldn't hear his words. "Everything will be all right. Yoru was still conscious when they took him away; I can only interpret that as a sign he'll recover. I think it would it be best for you to stay here with Omashu, just until we can get everything cleared up and comb the palace for other assassins."

Xing drew back, as if his gentle words had been a rebuke. Her chin tilted up a few degrees, and she clutched Omashu to her chest, the lacy fabric of her white gown wrinkling. She looked like a living doll, with her regal, handmade dress and smooth black hair. But it was the eyes that made the illusion—empty and frigid, like the eyes of a doll that came close to mimicking a human face, but just missed the mark.

He could see why his brother might invest in concubines.

"I will stay," Xing finally said. "But if you hear anything about Yoru, I want to know immediately."

"Giving orders to a prince?" His lips quirked up on one side.

"Giving orders to my brother-in-law, actually." Her face didn't change. Her eyes remained trained on him a moment more before she turned away.

Only when she disappeared did Yumao allow himself to shiver.

* * *

><p>Republic City Park was the sort of place that drew both wealthy young socialites and bereft wayfarers struggling to eke out a living in an unfamiliar world.<p>

Zelda wasn't sure which group she and her sister belonged to, and, as long as she found a firebending teacher, she didn't really care. "I'm going to check around and see if I can meet any firebenders," she said, picking up her backpack and hoisting it onto her shoulders.

Meira hung their sleeping bags from a low-hanging tree branch in an attempt to purge the dampness caused by Yue Bay. "Sure. Meet back here in two hours, okay?"

Zelda blinked; she'd expected the waterbender to insist on joining her. In the North Pole, Zelda had always been accompanied by at least half a dozen servants and guards. Sneaking out of their igloo to follow her sister would've been a challenge if she hadn't been so used to evading her servants. Yet for the first time ever, the thought of going out alone terrified her—what if something happened? All her firebending knowledge came from her mother's secondhand advice, plus what little she'd discovered for herself. If someone came after her . . . _No, _she thought, squaring her shoulders and taking one last glance around for memorable landmarks. _I can't think like that. I can't be a coward and a firebender at the same time. _

She marched up the hill, then turned sharply once she came across a cobblestone path. Despite over a hundred years since the park had been founded, the rocky strip looked pristine, framed by rows of colorful blossoms and manicured grass. Zelda suspected a whole team of landscapers, gardeners, and groundskeepers worked to maintain the prospering park.

She walked briskly, not wanting to waste a moment of her allotted time. As Meira's head disappeared behind the rolling hills, a thrill of excitement shot through her. For the first time ever, she was alone—really, truly alone. No plans, no backup, nothing to hold her back.

Free.

A giggle escaped her lips at the thought. The Fire Nation was at war with the Earth Kingdom, and the water tribes were probably going to be pulled into the whole mess, and here she was, out on her own with no one to guide her, almost bouncing down the path.

Republic City overflowed with people, benders and non-benders alike. In less than five minutes from the start of her walk, Zelda counted three earthbenders, a waterbender, and a dozen other people of undetermined ability. But no firebenders.

_Is Republic City going to ally with the Earth Kingdom? _she wondered, throat closing up. _Is that why there are no firebenders here? The city can't just take sides, can it? This place should be too multicultural for that. I must not be looking in the right place. _Her pace sped, eyes scanning the area for a single flicker of flame or bolt of lightning, but the only lights she saw belonged to street lamps, and even most of those had been turned off for the day.

Zelda went into a wooded section of the park, knowing she was less likely to find a firebender here than she was to find one practicing out in the open, but knowing she had to try anyway. The trees, barely budding with fresh green, seemed to close in around her, branches wrapping around the path in a hollow cylinder. Branches groaned, the baby leaves whispering secrets to each other.

In the North Pole, it was not uncommon to see vast fields of flat ice interspersed with only a few chunks of stone or snow. Except for her brief run through the Earth Kingdom forest a week ago, she'd never been around so many trees, never felt so closed in by nature. Her breathing grew ragged, her pulse pounding in her ears, her throat.

"Hey, are you okay?"

The voice snapped her out of her panic. She realized she'd crouched on the edge of the path, hands clapped against her ears as she'd tried to block out the whispering trees. Heat rising to her cheeks, she turned toward the speaker.

It was a girl of about fifteen, with brown hair pulled back into a short ponytail. She wore a pale pink blouse and brown pants, but no shoes.

"I'm fine," Zelda said, embarrassed to have been caught in the middle of a panic attack.

The girl frowned, leaning forward as if studying a bug. Her glasses slipped half an inch down her nose. "Hey, you look kind of familiar."

Zelda blinked. "Huh?"

"Are you from around here?"

"No." She stood, brushing a lock of hair behind her ears.

"I swear I've seen you somewhere. You've never been to Republic City before?"

"This is my second day here." She paused, not sure if that was the sort of information people just volunteered in big cities like this. Would this girl consider her naïve for saying that? Zelda knew tourists were a lot more likely to get conned than long-time city-dwellers. Had she already made a careless mistake?

"You're walking around in the park, alone, on your second day here?"

Zelda retreated half a step, taking a fighting stance. "I'm a firebender. I can take care of myself."

The girl looked at her oddly. "Um . . . okay, but . . . your stance . . ."

Zelda glanced down at her feet, then back up, berating herself for looking away at all. She didn't know this girl, didn't know whether she was a bender or not, didn't know which of them would win in a fight. "What _about_ my stance?" she demanded.

"Oh, it's just . . . You're untrained, aren't you?"

"What makes you think that?" _I got this stance from a firebending book. _

"Your stance is too narrow. Any real firebender would know that."

"I _am _a real firebender." For effect, she allowed a wisp of fire to float above her palm. "Don't mess with me. I'm not helpless and I'm not weak."

The girl's eyebrows slanted down. "Well you don't have to be so harsh about it. I was only trying to help."

The fire faded from her fingertips, as if repulsed by her sudden shame; Zelda glanced down. "You startled me."

"Yeah, well . . ." The girl made a face, like she wanted to say something more, then drew back, looking down. "I guess I must've. Sorry. I'm Kotono."

Because it was polite, and because the other girl had introduced herself first, Zelda responded. "I'm Zelda. Sorry I snapped at you."

Kotono smiled. "That's a pretty name. Are you Fire Nation?"

"My mother was. I'm from the Northern Water Tribe. My sister is a waterbender."

"That's _so _cool. Ooh, maybe we could all get together and practice our bending sometime! The park is a great place to practice, and you can get a bunch of helpful tips from other benders if you hang around long enough." The girl skipped to her side, taking both her hands. "What do you say? My brother's always too busy with work to practice firebending with me. I'd love to have a sparring partner."

Zelda leaned forward, picking out the most important fact first. "You're a firebender, too?"

Pink stained the younger girl's cheeks. Her hand flitted nervously in front of her face, knuckles pressing into her lips as she smiled. "Sort of. My brother gives me lessons sometimes, but lately, he's been too busy."

"Can you teach me?"

The girl's eyes opened wide. "Um. Well . . ."

"Sorry. I know I must seem a little . . ." She gestured helplessly. "It's just that I've never had an opportunity to learn from another firebender before. I was the best in my village, out of the three of us." The other two had been twins, born in the Fire Nation, whose mother had settled in the North Pole after a series of domestic disputes. Unfortunately, the boys had been too young when they'd come to the North Pole to even remember the Fire Nation, and had even less background knowledge about firebending than Zelda had.

"I suppose I can. I'm not very good."

"That's fine." _If I can just get the basics, I can figure out the rest. _

"Okay." Kotono beamed and took her hand. "Follow me."

_I can't believe it, _Zelda thought as the girl towed her back to the middle of the park._ I'm finally going to learn firebending._

* * *

><p>While her sister searched for a firebending teacher, Meira explored the shopping district. The pirates had taken most of their valuable belongings, though she'd managed to find some of their traveling gear at the water's edge after they'd washed up on the beach. They didn't have much money to burn, but she didn't need much for what she planned to do.<p>

In fact, she found enough money for what she needed on the sidewalk. Republic City was quite generous to those with eyes to look, and the dropped coins of tourists gave Meira the opportunity she'd been searching for. She'd plucked ten Yuan from the cement sidewalks by the time she found a stall selling postcards.

The man behind the counter looked up when she started surveying his wares, greeting her with a wide smile that exposed a gap between his two front teeth. Meira smiled back at him, more interested in the postcards he had for sale. "Republic City must get a lot of tourists," she said. After years of attending ceremonies in the Northern Water Tribe, she'd perfected the art of small talk—making people comfortable was part of her job.

"Not as many customers as there were before the war started. Too much animosity between customers and shopkeepers."

Meira nodded, mind zeroing in on his comment even as she browsed. She'd come here looking for a way to contact her father—she hadn't considered the fact that a bustling city like this had such sturdy connections to the rumor mill. "Yes, I heard," she said, sliding a postcard from its sheath. "The Earth Kingdom attacked the Fire Nation Capital, right?"

"As well as several major ports and industrial centers. It's really doing a number on business."

_Is it now? _she thought, nudging the conversation in the direction she wanted it to go. "I guess it makes sense for business to be slow, with the ports destroyed." _The Earth Kingdom cut off trade with the Fire Nation months ago. If they're still destroying ports, that can only mean they're trying to restrict trade within Fire Nation borders. Unless the Earth Kingdom considers Republic City an economic threat_. She frowned. "That's unfortunate. Are all the businesses in Republic City suffering?"

The gray-haired man smiled. "Aye, most of them. I was lucky—the raw materials for these postcards all come from the Earth Kingdom."

_Interesting. _"So, would you say there'll likely be an increase in trade between Republic City and the Earth Kingdom, now that the Fire Nation's ports have been destroyed?"

The man glanced at her, eyes widening for a moment. Meira bent her head to study another postcard, flipping it over several times before he spoke. "You seem like an intelligent young woman. I figure you ought to know more about the war by now than I do."

"I've been out of contact," she said, plucking another postcard from the rack. This one had a picture of an iceberg stamped across the front, and narrow lines on the back—plenty of space for writing, as long as she chose her words carefully.

"Out of contact with who?"

Her eyes flickered up to meet his gaze. His smile was gone, lips pressed into a thin line beneath his grizzled mustache. Looking at him, she couldn't determine his nationality. Most of the time, she viewed the blurred cultural boundaries as something to celebrate, like her parents' marriage. Now, it frustrated her—loyalists still existed in each of the nations. If she'd let something slip to someone from the wrong place . . . _What does it matter? _she thought. _It's not like you're taking sides. It's not like the water tribes will even _try _to take sides. And this is a neutral city. _

"Just out of contact," she said firmly, setting the iceberg-printed postcard on the wooden counter between them. "I'd like to buy this one, please. And a pen, if you have one."

The man nodded, pushing a jar of multicolored pens toward her as he calculated his price on the rusted cash register on his right. Meira selected a black pen, watching him surreptitiously.

"With the pen, your total is three Yuan."

She pulled the appropriate amount from her coin purse, mourning the loss of nearly a third of the money she'd collected today.

"And if you want to talk politics," the man added, sliding the postcard toward her. "There are better places for it."

Meira glanced up, startled. "Better places?"

The man nodded. "Few people in this part of town want to acknowledge the war—declaring political ties alienates customers, and if you don't want to go bankrupt, you have to be careful what you say." He ripped a piece of paper from a notebook under his desk and borrowed her pen to scribble something on it. He folded it up before she could see it, then tucked it underneath her postcard, weighing both down with the pen. "Thank you for your patronage."

Meira nodded, opening her mouth to express her gratitude for whatever he'd scrawled down on the paper. He interrupted before she could get a word in. "Messenger hawks are outdated technology, but you're wise to choose those over more conventional methods of communication. Birds are harder to trace than phone calls."

"I'll remember that," she said, tucking her purchases into her coat's inner pocket.

The man nodded. "Good."

She turned and hurried down the street. When she was far enough from the postcard stall that she couldn't see the middle-aged man, she ducked into a restaurant and searched for a bathroom. Whatever he'd written on that paper, his tone had implied that a certain amount of discretion would be necessary when examining it.

A pang of nostalgia shot through her when she entered the cold, cramped bathroom. In the Northern Water Tribe, smaller spaces were valued because they were easier to heat, but the whole city remained chilly year-round. Coldness and cramped quarters had merely been a part of life—she'd no more associated those traits with her home than she had the smell of seawater or the taste of blubbered seal jerky. Now, though, the chilly confines of the bathroom were oddly comforting, as if the echo of her home life promised safety.

She ventured into the nearest stall, touching as little as possible, and unfolded the piece of notebook paper. On it, in neat, aristocratic calligraphy, the man had left an address.

_Kuang's Cuisine, downtown Republic City, 3771 Trolley Street. _

Beneath that, the man had left a less technical location: _Back door, ten paces to the left of the trash bins. Go downstairs, knock on door labeled "cold storage B." There lie the answers to your questions. _

It seemed too perfect, too structured, like the back-alley dealings she'd read about in books. Even the kind of language the man had used—_"there lie the answers to your questions"_—seemed suspect and clichéd. Yet . . . Where else would an anti-war effort gather, if not in the basement of some apparently legitimate business? She couldn't imagine a bunch of politicians or philosophers meeting in the park for a game of Pai Sho.

She would talk to Zelda first, she decided. Zelda was the more analytical of the two of them. Where Meira would perceive deceit and manipulation, her sister would more easily see a trap meant to draw unsuspecting citizens into mortal danger.

Meira reread the paper several times, until the words were etched into her memory, then flushed the message down the toilet. _You have to be careful what you say, _she thought, remembering the old man's words. _And even more careful who hears it._

She left the stall, washed her hands, then abandoned the tiny bathroom. No one stopped her as she strode out the back door. No one even glanced at her. After eighteen years being looked upon as the princess of her people, having anonymity felt . . . unnatural. _Maybe I was wrong to leave the North Pole, _she thought. _Maybe I wasn't meant to leave my birthplace. _

Her throat tightened, and she sunk her teeth into her lower lip, gnawing on it as she walked. As she stepped outside, she paused, collecting herself. This wasn't the time to play at politics; that had been her father's job. Even as she acknowledged that, she couldn't help the little flutter of excitement she felt at the thought of political intrigue. _I could get some valuable information if I go to this meeting. I could dig up things Dad doesn't know about and make sure he learns as much as possible before he takes a stance in this war. _

She shook her head, banishing the thought from her mind. Her father wouldn't pick sides, he'd try to remain neutral. That was the best course of action for their snowy city, the same course of action her sister tribe would take. Manipulating her father into picking one side over the other . . . She could barely stomach the thought, let alone deliberately attend a meeting in which she risked hearing only one side of the story.

_If I find something important, I can send him another letter. Right now, he just needs to know that I'm safe and that he should beef up security by bringing his search parties in. _

Certain of her course, Meira hurried down the street, stopping only when she came to a set of tables near the sidewalk. Postcard in hand, she sat in one of the wrought-iron chairs and rested the tip of her new pen on the first line, thinking. The message had to be vital, to the point, and written in her smallest script; that meant carefully considering every word.

Suddenly, all her training in diplomacy didn't seem so wasteful.

_Dear Mother and Father, _she began, heart fluttering. Zelda would be furious with her for contacting their parents without consulting her. This letter jeopardized their position. If she didn't choose her words exactly right, her father would send his men straight to Republic City to retrieve them, and Zelda would never master firebending, and Meira would be the treacherous elder sibling with no regard for her sister's desires, and—

She exhaled sharply. "It's just a letter," she told herself. "You can be out of the city by the time anyone reads it."

Steadying herself to go on, she pressed pen to paper. Words flitted through her mind, but none of them were the _right _words. None of them conveyed what she wanted to say. At first, she chalked it up to guilt. Her departure had likely wounded her parents grievously, but putting an apology in the message would indicate a degree of uncertainty in her choice. Contrariwise, _not _putting an apology would indicate contempt for her parents' choices and their efforts to bring her back.

Meira couldn't help but think that this exchange would go over a lot better in person.

Frustration eventually got the better of her, making her words clipped, businesslike, and unapologetic. She scribbled fiercely, her fingers barely slowing for considerations such as handwriting. The message came out much harsher than she'd intended.

Half an hour after sitting down, she rose from her chair and consulted people on the street for the location of the nearest post office. After several tries, a pair of earthbenders gave her directions to the post office downtown, citing it as the most reliable place for transporting packages. Meira thanked them and cut across the street, running to avoid the impatient rumble of Satomobiles pushing their way through traffic.

It took another half an hour to find the post office, plus ten minutes purchasing the necessary postage(and using up the remainder of the Yuan she'd found on the sidewalk), but when the messenger hawk flew north with her postcard tethered to its leg, she let out a sigh of relief.

It was done. Whatever response her parents would give her, at least they'd know she was still alive. Meira left the post office, looking up at the digital time displays glowing from the bottom of every TV she passed, then froze when she saw the footage playing on the screens.

The devastation was obvious. Wooden support struts lay splintered over bits of stone and shreds of fabric. Two crimson flags, adorned with both the Fire Nation insignia and the royal family's personal seal, rested over a pair of wooden caskets. Meira watched, ears straining to hear the audio over the constant blare of horns. The news reporter spoke, her voice grim but clear.

"—memorial was held just last night in the Fire Nation Capital. Fire Lady Taemin, appointed shortly after the attack, gave the signal to start the blaze to honor her parents' untimely deaths. Lady Taemin's advisors claim her refusal to speak is a reflection of her inner strength, and are hopeful that preparations will soon be complete for the Fire Nation to launch a counterattack."

Meira stared at the caskets, horror creeping in along with the words. Her knees wobbled under her as the realization hit. _Cousin Taemin is Fire Lady now?_

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes:<em>

_I apologize for the lack of updates for this story. I wish I had the excuse of a busy month or writer's block, but I don't. It was pure laziness on my part. Anyway, I've decided to try approaching this story from a different angle, by which I mean I'm going to write one character's POV section every time I post a chapter for one of my other stories. Hopefully, this will result in weekly updates, or at least a new chapter twice a month. And if I ever go more than two weeks without updating again, I give you permission to beat me over the head with a metaphorical shovel in the form of vicious Personal Messages and reviews demanding updates. _

_That said, I'd be happy for a review of any form, at this point. Reviews really _are_ food for the Muse, and even if you think your thoughts on this aren't significant enough to warrant a review, I'd still be happy to hear them._


	19. Weak in the Knees

Chapter Nineteen

"Breathe in," Kotono instructed as she moved to the next step in the form. Zelda followed her movements, lungs filling to maximum capacity. "And out."

She exhaled, lowering her arms to mirror her firebending teacher. They paused here, long enough for Zelda to ask a question. "Why are we doing breathing exercises? I already know this."

"It's like taking a paper fan and waving it in front of a pile of embers. Give them enough oxygen, and they'll burn bright again. Now, breathe in." They each moved into a tigerdillo stance, then held the position, poised to strike. Zelda kept breathing, trying to imagine a pit of embers flaring up in her stomach. She could feel the energy building, chi flowing through her body like liquid fire. It felt stronger than usual, much stronger than anything she'd managed in the North Pole. Burning bright.

"How do you feel?" Kotono asked, still frozen in her stance.

"Powerful. Energized." She tilted her head to the side to get a better look at the bespectacled girl. "Is that good?"

"Yes, I think so. Are you ready to start working with fire now?"

Excitement shot through her, and she had to focus on her breathing to calm herself. "I'm ready."

"Okay." Kotono relaxed and turned toward her, ponytail bouncing like the bobber on a piece of fishing line. "We'll start with something small, and then—"

"Zelda? Zelda, where are you?"

The princess jumped guiltily, then turned toward the voice. "Right here," she called, looking up at the giant clock attached to one of the distant skyscrapers. It still seemed strange how huge everything was here—the tallest building in the North Pole had been the royal household, and even that had been dwarfed by the towering walls of ice that protected the city from invaders. _I guess that wasn't such a pointless precaution after all, _Zelda thought, remembering the war.

Her sister crested the hill just then, cheeks flushed, breathing hard. "Zelda." Relief saturated her voice. "I couldn't find you."

"I still have fifteen minutes."

"Sorry," Meira said, stopping right in front of her. The waterbender glanced at Kotono, eyebrows rising half an inch before settling in their usual arrangement. When Meira spoke again, her voice was polite, measured. "Hello. Are you a friend of my sister's?"

Kotono hesitated, glancing at Zelda as if searching for a cue. The princess shrugged. "Yes. I'm Kotono."

"I'm Meira. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"She's going to be my firebending teacher for a while," Zelda said. "If that's okay."

"Sure, that's fine." The waterbender nodded, but her eyes were tight, her shoulders tense.

Kotono spoke before Meira could explain what had put her in such a panic. "You said your name was Meira?"

The waterbender blinked. "Yes, that's right."

Kotono turned, her expression strangely horrified. "And you're Zelda."

"Uh-huh."

The fifteen-year-old swayed slightly. "Oh . . . Oh, spirits, you're the princesses of the Northern Water Tribe."

Zelda cast a panicked glance toward her sister, unsure how to respond. Meira understood people—she'd know whether to lie about their identities or pretend it was nothing of importance.

After the briefest hesitation, Meira addressed Kotono. "I wasn't aware our names were known here in Republic City."

"Of course they are! You're _princesses_, how could people not know about you?"

A flash of alarm shot through Zelda, more potent than the energy she'd felt during the breathing exercises. She glanced between her temporary firebending teacher and her sister, legs locking up.

"Listen," Meira said, her voice dropping to a murmur. "It's important for us to remain anonymous here. We don't want to be accosted by anyone trying to form an alliance with the Northern Water Tribe."

Kotono spluttered. "Oh, but . . . Um. Aren't you . . . So, this whole time . . ." Her eyes panned to Zelda's face. Abruptly, she threw herself to the ground, head down. Her voice was a squeak. "I'm so sorry! I didn't realize I was speaking to someone of your station."

"It's fine. Please get up." Zelda knelt, taking one of Kotono's hands and pulling her to her feet. As the younger firebender rose, her back went rigid, her posture perfect. Zelda sighed. "You don't have to be so formal. Even the Northern Water Tribe isn't this strict." She'd read that it _had _been, once, before the end of Sozin's War, but these days, people only bowed at formal ceremonies. Their father had been quite lax about the old ways. _Except for political marriages, _she thought, remembering the horrible suitors that had come for her sister's hand. _It's almost like Dad was _trying _to get her to rebel. _

Zelda frowned, thinking. Apparently, Kotono interpreted her expression as a sign that she'd done something wrong. "It is an honor to be graced with your presence. I am sorry if I offended you in any way."

"You haven't." Zelda made a gesture to dismiss her, then realized the girl probably wouldn't understand water tribe signals. "I have to speak to my sister alone. It seems she has something important to say."

"Oh, yes. I will leave at once, Princess."

"Please don't call me that."

"I apologize—"

"And please don't apologize for something so trivial. Meet me here again tomorrow?"

Shock flitted across the young firebender's face, but she nodded. "Yes, Pr—Zelda." Her eyes flickered to the princess's face, then away as she retreated down the path.

Zelda watched her go, then let out a heavy sigh. "What are the odds that we'll remain anonymous with her around?"

"Minimal." Meira pressed her lips into a thin line. "We have things to discuss."

The firebender took that as a signal to head back to camp. They walked in silence, and she practiced her breathing, just as she'd been taught. Like before, she could feel the buildup of chi in her body when she inhaled, the heat twisting through her abdomen. It made her feel the sunny day did, the power surging through her body.

"So what do we need to talk about?" she asked when they reached their temporary camp.

Meira turned toward her. "Do you remember Aunt Alasane, from the Fire Nation?"

Her eyebrows shot up into her hair. "Of course. She's Mom's sister."

Her sister took a breath, then exhaled slowly. "During the first attack . . ." She trailed off, a thin film of tears covering her eyes. "One of the Earth Kingdom's airships struck the Fire Nation Capital. Aunt Alasane . . ."

"No." She shook her head, as if shaking off the horrible thoughts. "No, that's impossible."

"She's dead, Zelda."

The blunt words struck her like a blow, and she collapsed onto the grass, clutching her chest. "No."

"So is Fire Lord Kaso. Cousin Taemin has taken his place."

"But she . . ." Her head spun, mind racing to sort through it all. "Taemin's only twelve. How did you . . ."

"They showed her parents' funeral pyre on the news. Zelda, I'm sorry, but I had to tell you." Tears slipped down the waterbender's face, and she turned away, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "I know how much Aunt Alasane meant to you."

Zelda didn't cry; she didn't do anything except stare blankly at the pond at the edge of their campsite. In a way, it was just like looking out at the ocean, except this pond was placid, whereas the Northern Sea had been choppy. Aunt Alasane had made a point to visit the North Pole once every summer; Zelda had learned more about firebending in their limited exchanges than she had from any of her own mother's advice.

Back home, watching the turbulent seas had always calmed her. But the stagnant pond in front of her was fetid, unmoving. _As if everything beneath the surface is dead, _she thought hollowly. She curled her arms around her legs and looked away. "What do we do now?"

Meira's eyes flashed to hers, still shiny with tears. When she answered, her voice trembled. "I met a man in the shopping district who knows where we can learn more about the war. He gave me directions to a place called Kuang's Cuisine."

Zelda nodded, grasping at the distraction the way a tempest-tossed man would grasp for a life ring. "Where's that?"

"Trolley Street. I don't know much about the place, and for all we know, it's a dead end. But I don't see anything wrong with checking it out, as long as you think it's okay."

Zelda frowned, thinking. It was possible that either the Earth Kingdom or the Fire Nation was trying to draw curious citizens to one place to either recruit them or imprison them, but she doubted it. For one, that would be inefficient_. It would be a lot easier to isolate a group based on geographical location than draw them in with tricks like that. No, this is too calculated, too careful_. "I say we go. If we get into trouble, your waterbending can bail us out."

Meira nodded. "Okay. We'll go tonight."

* * *

><p>General Shaio paced in front of his subordinates, fuming. "I don't see what the problem is."<p>

"Sir, the explosions from our first assault sent a plume of ash into the air. If we fly over the capital, our engines will stall."

He turned to glare at the young engineer. To his surprise, the seventeen-year-old held his ground, chin raised in defiance. "What's your name, boy?"

"Yuuto."

Shaio nodded. "And why would flying into the capitol make our engines stall?"

"The ash and dust will clog the hydraulic systems and compromise mechanical structures central to the functionality of the turbines."

"And if those engines stall, will this airship plummet to the ground?"

Yuuto hesitated, seeming thrown by the obviousness of his question. He glanced at his superior, who quickly looked away. "Yes, sir," Yuuto said uncertainly.

"So you would advise me, a General well above your rank, to whom you have pledged your life and livelihood, _not _to fly into the ash cloud?" Shaio asked, wondering if the boy would back down in the face of his question.

Yuuto paused, glancing again at the head engineer. The grizzled man averted eyes, feigning indifference to the conversation. Yuuto squared his shoulders, as if bracing himself. "Yes, General Shaio. I would advise you not to fly into the ash cloud." Yuuto paused, then looked up at him. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Permission granted."

"Sir, I am only your subordinate, and I know it is not my place to give you orders; however, my father designed this ship, and I understand its mechanics better than you do, so in this case, I think you would be wise to listen to me."

The General sat back and motioned to one of his stewards for a drink. Within seconds, a cup of jasmine tea sat on the table at his side, steam rising from the top. He picked it up, sipped it, and turned back to the boy. "Tell me, Yuuto, what sort of advice would you give me regarding tea?"

"Tea, sir?"

"Yes, tea. I'm assuming you've tried it."

"I have, sir. But tea is not really my field of expertise . . ."

"So you wouldn't advise me on what kind of tea I should or should not drink?"

"No, sir." A bead of sweat trickled down the side of Yuuto's face. When several seconds passed without a word between them, he spoke again. "May I ask . . . Is there a reason you're questioning me about tea?"

"I was testing you, to see if you'd be foolish enough to advise me on matters I'm already capable of handling."

Panic shot across the young man's face, but his arms remained tight to his side, his body straight and still as a soldier's. He said nothing, refusing to recant his earlier assertion about engines and ash clouds.

Eventually, General Shaio cracked a smile. "You'd make an excellent earthbender."

"Thank you, sir, but I'm an engineer, not a bender."

"Nonetheless, I find such steadfast people admirable. Captain," he called, turning toward the man at the helm. "Turn the ship around. Find a place to land that isn't surrounded by ash clouds. It would be . . . inadvisable to steer too close the capital, as things stand now."

"Yes, General Shaio." The man grabbed one of several levers, and the airship lurched to the right, turning sharply to avoid the bruised clouds. Behind him, the boy let out a soft sigh of relief.

"Gamon, you are dismissed," Shaio said to the head engineer. The man bowed and vanished into a side door, seeming relieved to be out of his line of fire. Yuuto remained, face paling. As soon as he was gone, Shaio addressed the boy. "Was Gamon the one who sent you to me?"

The boy hesitated. "No one sent me, sir. I was simply told to keep an eye on weather conditions."

"Did Gamon tell you to contact me directly?"

Another hesitation. Yuuto's voice grew quiet. "No, sir. He just said to watch the sky."

"So why did two you come to me?" _And why, _he wondered. _did your direct superior let you do all the talking?_

"That seemed the most reasonable at the time." His face grew paler. "I apologize for my poor conduct, sir."

Shaio sipped his tea, resting an elbow on the metal table. "There _is _a chain of command. You should have let Gamon come alone."

"He said it was best if we both reported to you. The danger was imminent. I didn't have time to think—"

The General lifted a hand to stop him. The gush of words immediately cut off, and Yuuto lowered his head. "According to protocol, you should've let Gamon handle it alone."

"I apologize for my thoughtlessness."

"That wasn't meant to be a rebuke." _But you _were _meant to be Gamon's scapegoat, _he thought, glancing at the door leading to the engine room. _And you didn't even realize it, did you?_

Yuuto's brown eyes flickered up to Shaio's face. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out.

Shaio set aside his tea. "As it happens, sometimes ignoring protocol is the only way to get things done. For instance, I have special orders from the Earth King that command me to ignore traditional types of warfare. It is a wise order on his part, and will likely aid us greatly in conquering the Fire Nation, but nonetheless, the orders are rather disagreeable to me. You could even say they are against protocol."

"Sir?"

"Yuuto, I have a task for you," he said, rising from his chair and walking over to the boy. "Come with me so we can discuss it in private."

He started for his chambers, the boy following close behind him. Soldiers and stewards passed him at every turn, each one nodding respectfully in his direction. When they finally arrived at his personal cabin, he opened the door and gestured for the boy to go ahead. Uncertainly, Yuuto shuffled into the room. "Turn on the lights," Shaio ordered. The boy nearly tripped over his own feet as he doubled back to hit the light switch. "Take a seat."

Yuuto sat down in the indicated chair, his face as pale as polar leopard pelt. His hands trembled slightly.

_Excellent, _the General thought. _Fear will make him more pliable. _He wanted to smile at his cleverness, leading the boy to think he was in trouble while still ostensibly bringing him here to discuss engine work. "As I said, I have a task for you. If you achieve this task, you will become known as one of the great heroes of the Earth Kingdom. Would you like that?"

"Yes, sir. Very much," Yuuto said weakly.

He nodded in approval. "Excellent. Listen carefully, then. When the captain lands this ship, you and I are going to infiltrate the Fire Nation Capital. Once there, you will dress in servant robes and approach the Fire Lady. Obey her as long as necessary to get close to her, whether that takes days or weeks."

"Is this . . . a reconnaissance mission, General?"

"No." _But it's one less problem for me to deal with. _He pulled a bundle of fabric from beneath his bed and unrolled it. Within were several antique daggers, two of most refined guns manufactured within the Earth Kingdom, and several vials of various poisons, including spidersnake venom and cactus juice from the Si Wong Desert. "Once you get close to her, slip some of this into her drink." He handed Yuuto the cactus juice. "As soon as you've confirmed that she's consumed it, return to the ship."

"What will happen to her?"

_What do you _think_ will happen to her? _he wanted to ask. Instead, he said,"Don't question my orders, boy. Slip it into her drink, then come back. Those are my orders, and if you don't want to be demoted to a latrine-cleaner, I suggest you obey."

Yuuto bowed his head. "Yes, sir."

"Good." He walked back to the door and opened it."Now head back to the engine room and do your duty until we land."

The boy hurried out the doorway, pausing only to bow before running back to the engine room. When he was gone, Shaio allowed himself a contented smile. _No wonder Gamon wanted to use him as a scapegoat. He was practically asking for it._

A servant approached from the other side of the corridor, bearing a tray with a single teacup sitting in the center. "General Shaio, you left your tea in the control room. Do you still want it?"

"Yes," he said, lifting the ceramic cup from the tray. "I would love some tea."

* * *

><p>The sun set just as they reached Kuang's Cuisine.<p>

"Are you sure this is the place?" Zelda asked, looking up at the elaborate gold trim of the doors. "It looks awfully fancy, considering why we're here."

"The note said to go through the back door, by the trash bins." _It won't be too fancy back there, _Meira thought. _People will think we're scullions or thieves. _They started down the sidewalk again, the soft music fading as they circled the building. Despite the darkening sky, the streets overflowed with people, ranging from elite businessmen to kids with spindly arms and hollow eyes. Some of them carried little jars and looked up at them hopefully as they passed. Others played stringed instruments, ranging from _kotos _to violins. They, too, carried jars for money, but theirs were much fuller than those of the kids without instruments.

"This city is kind of depressing, when you really look at it."

Zelda nodded. "Big cities have higher crime rates and a greater density of homeless people. Cities like this are built for the tourists, not families."

"Even so." They turned into the alley between the restaurant's back doors and the side of a festive gift shop. Shadows pooled in the narrow space, lying in wait for anyone foolish enough to trespass there. Elephant rats skittered between trash bins, unafraid of the people on the sidewalk.

"You really think we'll find something in here?" Zelda asked, her hand coming down on the back door's handle.

"I hope so." _Otherwise we walked all this way for nothing. _

Zelda pulled the door open, muscles straining against its weight. A single, bare light bulb glared down at them from the ceiling, flickering weakly as the door closed. It illuminated a wooden staircase leading down to a door. Boxes were stacked on each step, with labels such as "plastic bags" and "oven cleaner."

"Down there?" Zelda asked, her voice sounding oddly strained.

Meira nodded. "Down there."

The steps creaked, but at least they didn't buckle under their added weight. When they reached the landing where the door sat, Meira knocked. She could hear voices within, too indistinct to analyze, but at least none were raised in anger. That had to be a good sign.

A woman with dark eyeliner answered the door, peering at them with disdain. "Yes?"

"Um . . ." _Why didn't that vendor give us instructions for this? _"I was told to come down here, in order to find out more about the war."

The woman's eyebrows slanted down. "You know the password?"

_Shit, _she thought, glancing around as if that would give her an idea. "Uh . . . Um . . ."

"Do you know it or not?" the woman demanded.

"I didn't know there _was_ a password."

The woman smirked and opened the door. "Good answer. Welcome to the club, kid. I'm Mad Lin. Have a seat wherever you want." Mad Lin stepped out of the way to reveal a cozy room with several tables, a small bar, and several Pai Sho boards. Meira stepped inside, surprised.

"Is this a tavern?"

"Tavern? What, were you born before the Anti-bending revolt?"

She bristled, but Zelda spoke before she could retaliate. "This place is so _cool_!"

"_Zelda_."

"What?"

Mad Lin sighed, putting her hands on her hips. "In answer to your question," she said stiffly. "No, this is not a tavern. It's a _lounge. _With alcohol. For adults." She gave Zelda a hard look, and the firebender blushed.

"And in this lounge . . ."

"We talk about the war. And before you ask, no, we're not picking sides. We are . . . philosophers, for the most part."

Meira glanced around, examining the people in the room for the first time. Many were young, in their twenties. None of them fit her image of what a philosopher should look like—old, with a regal white beard, or aristocratic in appearance, with a taste for literature. There were a few older people, but they all had a worn look about them, like spotty silverware, not properly polished. After eighteen years in her tribe's royal family, they all looked rather . . . unimpressive. Still, it paid to be courteous. Meira bowed to Mad Lin. "Thank you for letting us in. I am Meira, of the Northern Water Tribe, and this is my sister, Zelda."

Mad Lin looked between them. "Sisters, huh? You don't look alike."

"Our mother is Fire Nation," Zelda said, folding her hands in front of her and copying Meira's bow. "But our father is Water Tribe."

"Yeah, I don't really care. Did you come here to talk about the war, or not?"

"Yes," Meira said, jumping on the opportunity. "We want to know the truth about what happened."

"There's no such thing as 'the truth,'" interjected a new voice. She turned and saw a dark-haired man of about nineteen eavesdropping on their conversation from one of the couches. His eyes were liquid emeralds, his face angular yet effeminate. He lounged against the back of the couch, stretched out like a cat-owl in its nest, and stared back at her, his lips pulled down in a slight frown.

Meira's knees went weak.

"What do you mean, 'there's no such thing as the truth'?" Zelda demanded, leaning forward.

"When more than one person witnesses something, there will be different recollections of the same event. Therefore, there is no way to distinguish between truth and lies in stories, no matter how accurately recalled. 'The truth' doesn't exist because it cannot be proven based on human recollection. There is no truth about what's happened in this war, only viewpoints."

_He speaks like a scholar, _Meira thought, lips parting. "Who are you?"

The man sighed. "My name is Sora. And I can tell you what people have told me about the war."

Meira nodded, bowing once more to Mad Lin, then hurrying over to the couch to sit beside Sora. "We know the Earth Kingdom attacked the Fire Nation, and that both the Fire Lord and the Fire Lady are . . . no longer with us, and that their daughter Taemin holds the throne now. What else is going on?"

Beside her, Zelda winced.

"Firstly, this war didn't come out of the blue like the Fire Nation claims. The Earth Kingdom's been stocking up for months now—new models of guns, ammunition, food. They've been pulling resources away from less threatened areas and transferring them to the western coast, where they can be shipped, along with soldiers, to the Fire Nation." He paused, considering something. "Did you two hear about the trade embargo?"

Meira nodded. Even in the North Pole, the news had been the topic of much conversation, particularly on the council. There hadn't been an embargo between any nation since Sozin's War, so hearing about the tension between the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation had been unsettling for many members of the tribe.

"Right, so the embargo lasted for months before the Earth Kingdom attacked. The Fire Nation isn't _dependent _on Earth Kingdom goods, but their economy's been hurting ever since the Earth Kingdom stopped buying from them. Fire Nation nobility has been quarrelling for months over every Yuan, and worse, citizens who previously belonged to the middle class have had their businesses fall apart. A lot of people have had to _leave _the Fire Nation because their economy is so bad right now."

Zelda leaned forward. "You think the Earth Kingdom was trying to thin out the Fire Nation's population so they wouldn't have as many soldiers to fight?"

For the first time since Meira had seen him, Sora cracked a smile. "Ten points to the girl in red."

Zelda grinned.

"Anyway," Sora went on, closing his eyes and sinking further into the couch. It seemed odd that he could speak so intelligently and still look so casual. "That's _how _the Earth Kingdom prepared for war, but that's not the reason they started one."

"What _is _the reason?" Meira asked.

He opened his eyes and blinked slowly, as if surfacing from a deep slumber. "There are many reasons for war. To achieve prosperity, or dominance. For the sake of honor. For monetary gain. In the past, wars have been started over the idea of imperialism, which is when one country tries to take over as many other countries as possible in order to acquire their resources and . . . 'civilize' the natives, I suppose you could call it. And all of these reasons, in some way, play a role in the King Haran's decision to start a war. But I suppose you want to know the real reason?"

Meira nodded, eager.

Sora raised his eyes to her face, and she swore she saw a spark of amusement in his gaze. "They say the war started over a woman."

The waterbender leaned back, skeptical. "A woman? Really?"

"Yes, the woman whose face launched a thousand airships." He shook his head, the amusement becoming more pronounced in his expression. "Not just any girl, though—she was the Earth King's daughter."

"So . . . What happened? Did she get slighted by some firebender, or . . . ?"

"No. She was brutally murdered by some firebender."

Once, when they'd both been young, Zelda had dared her to eat a whole bowl of crushed ice. Meira remembered how horrible she'd felt afterward, as if her stomach had frozen solid in her gut, and was on the verge of bursting. That was how she felt now, as unwanted images of burnt corpses flashed through her mind. "Oh. Oh, wow . . ."

"This firebender—I forget his name, but that's not really the important part—he was a high-ranking noble of the Fire Nation, an ambassador of sorts. King Haran and Fire Lord Kaso worked together to arrange a marriage between this nobleman and King Haran's daughter, Lady Sil. The people claim their courtship was very traditional, even sweet. It came as such a surprise when that nobleman murdered Lady Sil three days before their wedding."

Meira shuddered. "That's awful. Why didn't I hear about this?"

"It happened over a decade ago, as soon as Lady Sil reached marriageable age. Being from the Northern Water Tribe, you wouldn't have heard all the rumors, all the supposed scandals, only the facts. It probably didn't leave an impression on you."

"But you remember it."

"I _do _read, you know. I could've gotten this all from a textbook."

"But you didn't," she said, shaking her head. "It comes to you too easily, and you repeat things that the _people _said, instead of referencing a book. You remember it."

Another smile. "Twenty points to the girl in blue, for seeing something I didn't realize I was showing her. Clever."

Warmth rose to her cheeks, and she looked away, embarrassed that such an innocent compliment could make her blush. And judging from the way Sora's smile widened, he'd noticed.

"So, the war started, in part, because King Haran couldn't bring himself to forgive the man who murdered his daughter."

"But why punish the whole Fire Nation?" Zelda asked, voice rising with frustration. "Why not just have that nobleman imprisoned, or . . ."

"Or executed?" Sora supplied. Zelda looked away. "Several reasons. The first: no one could prove the man's guilt. There had been no witnesses, no cameras. Supposedly, he'd asked to meet with Lady Sil in private, and they'd arranged a meeting in her bedchambers. But that is speculation. The other reason he couldn't be convicted was that, because of the man's high position within the Fire Nation court, Fire Lord Kaso came to his defense when he claimed innocence. Allowing someone in such a position to be taken to trial in a foreign country—or even tried within the Fire Nation for a crime he committed elsewhere—would have forced political reform and elicited more demands from the public to remove corrupt officials from their positions. Had the man not been an ambassador, he likely would've been brought to trial and, considering the victim, found guilty based solely on circumstantial evidence. Murder is simple. Politics, less so."

"I hate politics," Zelda said. Meira couldn't blame her; she hated politics, too.

"So the Earth King attacked the Fire Nation because he believed their country as a whole deserved it."

"Precisely," Sora said, tilting his head back. "And that's why I'm sitting here, in the basement of a restaurant, instead of playing political games at court. Life is about to get hazardous for people of nobility. If I were you, I would advise your parents about this right away, Princess Meira."

She coughed loudly, shock ripping through her. _Is _everybody _going to realize I'm a princess? _

Sora watched her. Somehow, he was able to maintain a cool expression despite the humor dancing in his eyes. If she hadn't been so startled, that look would've done strange things to her body. As it was, she could barely process his warning. "My parents? Why?"

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and his head in his hands. For a moment, he stared into the distance, as if seeing something that wasn't really there. Then, quietly, he spoke. "As I said, life is about to get hazardous for nobility. Either of the nations could wipe out the Northern Water Tribe on a whim. Casualties would be great, but a wall of ice won't stop their cannons like it did during Sozin's war. Your family will want to be especially careful not to offend either country, and some warning from you might help them avoid that."

Her stomach churned; she shifted, staring at the cement floor. "Oh."

"I apologize if I upset you," Sora said formally. "But if you want to hear more about the war, I'll be here tomorrow, too. And the next day. And the next, until I have to leave this city, or until the war's over. Or until I die, I suppose, but I'd rather not think about that." He rose from the couch and edged toward the door, waiting for her response.

"Tomorrow would be good," she murmured, unsure whether she was agreeing to return because she couldn't handle any more talk about the war tonight, or because she wanted to see him again as soon as possible.

Either way, she planned to be here tomorrow.


	20. A Letter from Republic City

Chapter Twenty

"Chief, a letter has arrived from Republic City."

Narue looked up, his face grim. He'd received more letters in the past week than he'd received in the past _year_. His temples throbbed, eyes strained from hours of reading and rereading, writing and rewriting. The muscles in his hands ached, and he'd gone through a dozen pens in the last four days alone. Nonetheless, reading letters was one of his duties. "Set it on my desk. I'll look at it tonight."

"Chief . . ." the messenger said, clutching the envelope to his chest.

"What is it?"

"Sir, I recognize the penmanship. It's Meira's handwriting."

Narue shot to his feet, knocking over a cup of pens. They scattered across the floor, some freezing upon contact with the ice. "Give it here," he ordered, meeting the messenger halfway across the room. "And summon my wife at once."

"Yes, Chief." The black-haired man hurried out of the house to find Zora.

Narue opened the envelope before he even made it back to the desk. He nearly ripped the postcard in his haste. The front bore an image of a glacier, not dissimilar to many in the North, though if he'd been in less of a hurry, he would've questioned the quality of the artwork. As it was, he could barely contain his relief long enough to read the words on the back.

_Dear Mother and Father, _it read, in Meira's less-than-perfect calligraphy. _I understand that my sudden disappearance has probably worried you greatly. However, Zelda and I have decided to spend some time traveling the rest of the world, in order to establish ourselves by something apart from our position of royalty. I'd like you both to know that we are safe, and we're being cautious. _

_Zelda intends to stay in Republic City until she has mastered firebending. I will be staying at her side until I am comfortable leaving her alone, so I will not be returning to the Northern Water Tribe in the near future. Zelda also wants to help end this war, however possible, and may not return until the conflict is over. Please withdraw any search parties and fortify the defenses around the Northern Water Tribe. I haven't heard anything of an impending attack, but I am sure both nations will be campaigning furiously for our tribe's support in the war. It is best to be prepared. _

_I apologize for leaving so abruptly, but I could no longer stay. My place is elsewhere in the world, and though I'm sure I'll return someday, I'm not ready to get married. If you wish to contact either of us, we're in Republic City. I will set up a box at the Golden Heart post office if you need to get in contact with us. _

_Love, Meira._

_P.S. Please acquire a more efficient way of communicating. Letters require postage, and we are a bit short on money at the moment. Also, if I need to contact you again, it likely means the situation is dire, and waiting for a reply is not a viable option for us._

He stared at the letter, the words blurring on the page. His daughters were alive, yet too distant for him to contact directly. He slumped in his chair, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Minutes passed. Zora arrived, still wearing her dark blue coat. Bits of snow clung to her hair, and her cheeks were flushed. "The messenger said there was a letter from our daughters."

He picked the postcard up from his desk and handed it to her, not saying anything. Her eyes darted back and forth, reading it much faster than he had. When she was done, her arms fell to her side, the postcard nearly slipping from her fingers. With her head tilted downward, her eyes fell under the shadow of her bangs. "They're all right."

"You sound . . ." He trailed off uncertainly. His wife didn't sound _unhappy, _but she didn't sound relieved, as he'd expected. If anything, the words were weighed down by her weariness.

"Our daughters are safe," Zora said with more confidence. "That's a cause for celebration, but we have to think carefully about how we want to handle this."

"We have to get them back! We'll send a team of waterbenders to bring them home. It's not safe for them out there."

Zora's eyes flashed. "Did you even _read _this letter?" she demanded.

"Of course I read it! That doesn't change the fact that there's a war going on."

"And that's exactly why we need to consider our next move very, _very _carefully."

"I've already considered it. Meira and Zelda need to come home, where it's safe."

"What about this place is safe? How long do you think our walls will hold if either nation decides to take us out of the equation?"

"We're a neutral party."

"We're an easy target!" Zora snapped. Narue blinked, shocked to hear her raise her voice. She threw the postcard onto the desk. "Read it again. If you really think we can make them come home, then go ahead and try."

He repressed the urge to glower at her, turning instead to the letter. He reread it, the stiffness in his neck becoming more pronounced. When he was done, he looked up again. "They can be reasoned with."

"Maybe if we'd caught them before they'd left. Now they're in a foreign country, getting ready to stop a _war_. There's nothing we can do to change their minds."

"Zora—"

"Furthermore, they're legal adults, by both our countries' standards. They know that. _You_ know that."

Frustrated, he threw the letter down on the desk. "What do you expect me to do, Zora? Leave them there?"

She opened her mouth, her composure crumbling even further as her eyebrows slanted down. Then, abruptly, she rocked back on her heels and closed her mouth. Several seconds passed before she spoke, and when she did, her voice was deadly quiet. "I expect you to have King Haran send for her."

He stared at her. "What?"

"Meira and Zelda disobey tribal traditions because they don't feel free here. You saw how Meira reacted when you brought in those wretched suitors—"

"I was softening her up to meet the Earth Prince!"

"She's not an idiot, Narue."

"I never said she was," he argued, throwing his hands into the air.

"But you treated her like one! She would have accepted a union with the Earth Prince. Maybe she wouldn't have been happy, but she would've accepted it, and perhaps grown to love him. But if you wanted to marry her off like that, you should have told her."

He bowed his head, trying to think of an adequate response. He'd only intended the first batch of suitors as decoys—he'd selected them so Meira would reject them. If she'd only stayed until the war had started, it would've been easy to marry her to the Earth Prince. She would have accepted that. Meira always did her duty.

He exhaled, breath turning to fog the moment it left his lips. "Perhaps you're right. Nonetheless, they're our daughters. What can we do, except tell them to come home?"

The last of the emotion drained from Zora's face, leaving only the collected mask she wore when speaking to the council. "As I said, have the Earth King send for them. They rebel from our tribe because they hold enough influence here to fight our wishes. They cannot rebel from the Earth Kingdom so easily."

"And Zelda? Are we to leave her in Republic City, alone?"

"Zelda will never return here on our orders, only by her own will." Zora smiled slightly. "She takes after you that way."

His eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "Do you really think so?"

"Yes. Quick to make decisions and quick to rebel against authority figures." Her smile widened, then disappeared, her face becoming somber again. "By the time the Earth King's men arrive for Meira, Zelda's firebending will have developed enough for her to survive on her own. And I think she'll take pride in her independence, just like you did."

"Zora . . ."

"Send a letter to the Earth King. Ask him to send his men to Republic City to find Meira. A marriage will ease any negative feelings he has toward our tribe for rejecting his offers for an alliance. And don't respond to Meira's letter. We'll contact her after they bring her to the Earth Kingdom."

"That could take weeks."

"Then we will wait weeks. Narue, listen." She stepped forward, shedding her coat to reveal the purple clothes she wore underneath. Bumps rose on her exposed skin in response to the cold air. "I am their mother. I want to see my children again more than anything else in the world. But I don't want them to resent us for dragging them back here when they want to be elsewhere. Meira will be safe in the Earth Kingdom, and Zelda will be safe in Republic City."

He let out a breath and kissed her lightly on the lips. "I'll write the letter."

Zora cupped his cheeks in her hands, warming them with the same gentle heat of the summer sun. He remembered the years he'd spent with her in the Fire Nation, before he'd had to return to fulfill his duties here. The Fire Nation had been sweltering, uncomfortably hot all year round, but Zora's touch was always precisely the right temperature.

She was his wife, and he trusted her judgment. That would have to carry him through the next few weeks.

* * *

><p>Ferron watched, amused, as Terrin threw up in the plastic bucket by the door. "So I guess traveling by boat isn't really your thing, huh?"<p>

The earthbender lifted his head long enough to glare at him, then lowered it again, retching.

"You know," Ferron said, a rare smile finding his lips. "I've never believed in karma, but . . ."

"Don't even say it," Terrin snarled.

"But I'd say this is a just punishment, considering how hellish you made my life back in Ba Sing Se."

"Your life was already hellish enough as it was."

The comment brought him up short. _He knew? _His eyebrows knitted together. _He knew how bad my life was and he still picked on me? _Anger tainted his thoughts, making his next words sharper than he'd intended. "Are you always this much of an asshole?"

"You're the one mocking a sick man."

The Avatar's hands curled into fists. "So you knew my life had gone to shit and you still tormented me?"

Terrin laughed, wiping his mouth with the edge of a towel. They'd been on this boat for four days now, and Terrin hadn't been able to keep any food down. His features were already starting to thin out, his skin losing some of its healthy pallor, and the flesh around his eyes was sinking inward as his body used up its fat reserves.

Ferron figured the earthbender was pretty hungry by now.

"Your life never went to hell," Terrin said. "You were immersed in it from the moment you were born in a brothel."

Ferron shot to his feet. "Take that back!"

"It's true, isn't it? Your mother was a whore, and you're a bastard, and your father is probably some drunken foreigner with a taste for Earth Kingdom women."

"Take it _back_!" he yelled, storming toward the other boy. Already recovered from his seasickness, Terrin stood, squaring his shoulders. Ferron lifted his arms and shoved the earthbender's chest as hard as he could. The push threw Terrin against the metal wall of their cabin, and the sound of the impact rang through the room.

The _Kiss of Yue _lurched to the side, throwing Ferron off-balance. As he staggered, Terrin lunged forward, crashing into him shoulder-first and knocking him down. In less than a second, the earthbender had Ferron pinned to the floor, gasping for breath. "You're easily provoked, and you don't know how to wait for the right time to strike. That's going to be your downfall if you let it."

"This isn't the time for an earthbending lesson!"

"It's not an earthbending lesson. It's a lesson in how to fight back when someone hurts you." Terrin stood, releasing him. The Avatar rolled over, gasping for breath as the pressure was finally lifted from his ribcage. Terrin went on. "If I can pin you while I'm seasick and starving, that's your fault. You let emotion interfere with your earthbending and your judgment, and until you learn to control your impulses, you'll never beat me."

Ferron glowered at the other boy, seething. Terrin simply looked at him, face so still and stern, it could've been carved of granite. When the earthbender offered a hand, all Ferron could do was stare, confused. His eyes flickered to Terrin's stoic face, but there was no malice in them, no emotion at all. Uncertainly, Ferron took his hand and let the earthbender pull him to his feet.

"I'm sorry I said that about your mom. I was trying to get you to see my point."

Ferron looked away, trying to hide the resentment still roiling beneath the surface. His origins were a bit of a sore spot—they certainly weren't the things that came to mind when reading about past Avatars.

He wished he knew how to contact his past lives. Perhaps one of them could offer some insight, or make it easier to believe that he wasn't the worst Avatar the world had ever seen.

The boat lurched again, coming to an abrupt stop. He braced his hand against the wall to keep from slamming into it face-first. "What the hell?"

As if in answer, a voice came over the speaker system. "All passengers destined for Republic City please gather your luggage from the cargo hold and proceed to the deck. We'll be unloading passengers in half an hour." There was a _click_, and the room fell quiet again.

"Finally," Terrin muttered. "I was getting pretty fucking sick of this boat."

"Next time, we'll travel by air."

"Next time, we'll buy a wild eel hound so we can actually get somewhere in a reasonable timeframe."

Ferron sighed, not about to start an argument about how difficult it would be, even as the Avatar, to secure rations for such a massive animal. _Maybe we should just get used to taking the train, _he thought, grabbing his backpack and zipping it up. He hadn't taken much out of it, since they'd boarded this boat, but that was because they hadn't needed much of what it held. Everything they'd bought in Port Mao before they'd left was survival-related, and since the_ Kiss of Yue _had provided her passengers with everything they needed to travel comfortably, there hadn't been much occasion to open his bag.

"Let's try to be the first off the ship," Terrin said. "Much easier to avoid getting noticed, if we keep moving."

"Right." He pulled his backpack over his shoulders and opened the door. They walked in silence down the corridor while others peered out of their rooms or strolled down the hallway with bags already packed. He let his mind wander back to Ba Sing Se, to his mother. Would she have to go back to the brothels now that he was gone, or had she gleaned enough from his explanations about dumpster-diving to fend for herself until she could get a better job? _Maybe I should call her,_ he thought. _Just so she knows I'm okay and that she should get out of Ba Sing Se before it becomes a military stronghold again. _

It was dark outside when they walked on deck, the sun having set hours ago. It made him feel like a rat, or a stowaway, rather than a legitimate passenger. The darkness put him on edge, experience reminding him how dangerous a city could turn at night. Adrenaline sharpened his senses, and he could feel the cool air creeping across the deck, as if the ocean itself had breathed into the ship. The smell of salt overshadowed the dank city-smell—a combination of pollution, poor sewer systems, and corruption. He could hear the elephant rats scurrying over the ropes, as eager to make landfall as he had been. The rats would leave the ship long before it was safe for people to cross the flimsy makeshift bridge to the docks.

"This place reminds me of Ba Sing Se," he finally said.

"Yeah? How?"

"It's full of elephant rats and it stinks."

Terrin snorted. "I think that's true for every city."

"Even so, it makes me uneasy. Bad things happen in the city at night."

"So we'll be careful. Have you forgotten I'm an earthbender?"

"There are lots of benders in Republic City."

Terrin stopped halfway across the deck and stared at him. "Are you afraid of the city?"

He shrugged. "It's a lot more modern than Ba Sing Se. Safe to say it could be dangerous."

A catlike grin found its way to Terrin's lips. "You _are _scared, aren't you? And just when I thought you couldn't be more of a coward."

A new voice cut in before Ferron could retaliate. "All right, everybody, line up and head onto the docks."

Feet rumbled across the wooden deck, and they fell into place behind a family of five. The three children were all clinging together, as if the moment they let go, they'd drift away and disappear forever. Their parents were talking in low voices. "I heard the Avatar disappeared right out of Ba Sing Se."

He and Terrin exchanged a glance, then stepped closer. Ferron pulled his hood over his head, hoping his face wasn't widely known yet. The couple continued talking. "Maybe he's trying to remain neutral," the husband said. "The Avatar belongs to all four nations, not just one."

"Well, it sounds like he's pulling a disappearing act, like Avatar Aang did before Sozin's War."

Ferron winced.

The husband chuckled, but the sound was forced, layered with unease. "Maybe he's planning a surprise attack on the Fire Nation. Look, I'm sure they'll sort this whole thing out. King Haran doesn't _need _the Avatar on his side."

_Great. I've gone from being a runaway to being useless. _He sighed. _Some things never change. _

"I've heard he hasn't even mastered _earthbending_ yet. And he's seventeen! He should be able to metalbend by now."

"Actually," Terrin said, stepping forward. The couple glanced back, blinking at him. "The Avatar recently mastered earthbending, and is on his way to the Fire Nation to learn firebending. But apparently he's going undercover so the Fire Lady won't discover him or have him executed."

Ferron stared at him blankly. "What are you doing?" he whispered, more to himself than to the earthbender.

"And how do you know that?" the wife asked, tilting her head back with unconcealed contempt.

Terrin shrugged. "Well, my grandfather _is _a retired Earth Kingdom general. Rather unfortunate that the war started _after _he retired, but nothing to be done about that."

"Oh." The woman looked away, seeming chastised. Her husband eyed Terrin with annoyance, but said nothing as he turned around to lay a hand on his wife's shoulder.

The line moved forward, and they climbed off the boat. After days at sea, Ferron's legs felt unsteady, as if he was having trouble adapting to dry land again. Terrin, however, sighed in relief as soon they reached the more stable docks.

"Why did you say those things? You know I haven't mastered earthbending." _Not even close. _

"You _are _the Avatar, you know. You've got hundreds of past lives just waiting to get in touch with you. And you have me. You'll master earthbending in no time."

Ferron rolled his eyes. "Okay, seriously, there's no way you believe that. Why did you _really _make up all that stuff?"

"Because." He turned, face stone still. "Maybe you don't believe you can master all four elements, but I do. You've done it hundreds of times. You can do it now. Hell, Avatar Aang pretty much mastered three elements in one year. Try talking to _him_."

"I can't. I've never been able to contact any of my past lives before. I'm not even sure I really believe in all this."

"You know, there's a point where skepticism crosses the line into stupidity. There are centuries of documentation on your past lives—I'm pretty sure they're real."

"Could be a conspiracy theory."

"Then explain why you can bend all four elements."

Ferron fell silent.

"Yeah. That's what I thought. You can try to think logically all day long, but the fact is you're the Avatar, and it's your job to save the world."

"What if I can't?" he asked, finally voicing the question that had been echoing in his own mind ever since he'd heard of the Earth Kingdom's attack. "What if there's nothing I can do? I'm a bastard and a weakling. No one's ever expected anything of me, but now people are asking me to stop the war. How am I supposed to deal with that?"

Terrin sighed, sounding almost defeated. "You just do. You can try running away, and maybe that'll work for a while. Hell, maybe you'll get frozen in a block of ice for a hundred years and wake up to a peaceful world. But that didn't work out so well the last time. And you weren't born an airbender. You weren't born to run away or think outside the box. This is a problem you've got to face head-on."

"And if I can't even do that?"

Finally, Terrin lost his temper. "Then it's _over_, you idiot! If you can't do that, people are just going to keep dying until either the Fire Nation or the Earth Kingdom surrenders. People like your mother, and your friends. People like Freya."

He stared at the earthbender, shocked. _Freya, _he thought, a pang shooting through his heart. Her words—the last he'd ever heard from her—echoed in his mind: _"I'm sorry Ferron. But I won't go with you." _

"They're all in danger," Terrin continued. "Just like all the people in the Fire Nation are in danger. Soon, there won't be anywhere safe for them to go. So you might as well accept it now: if you don't save the world, someone else is going to end it. And you'd better hope no one you love gets taken out in the process."

* * *

><p>"Milady, we found this Earth Kingdom spy in the servants' quarters."<p>

Taemin looked up from the scroll she'd been reading, glad for a reprieve. "A spy?"

Several guards approached the dais. Between them, bound in metal shackles, a man of seventeen hobbled toward the throne, his face pallid as the moon. "Milady, this man stole into the palace during a shift change. One of your handmaids found him pawing through the laundry for Fire Nation clothes."

Taemin nodded. The builders they'd hired had repaired the throne room, and her advisors had recommended she return to the palace during the day in order to more effectively perform her duties as Fire Lady. Still, much of the palace remained in shambles, compromising security. Her guards had been on full alert for several days now, and twice, they'd raised false alarms regarding Earth Kingdom spies.

"What's your name?" she asked the brown-eyed prisoner. His hair was the oddest shade of yellow, probably bleached with the increasingly popular hair products. The light color made him look even paler.

The boy murmured something.

"Speak louder. I can't hear you over the flames." At her words, the flames lining the dais receded slightly, controlled by the firebending servants she'd posted in the corners.

"My name is Yuuto."

"Yuuto, tell me: what brought you to the palace, in its state of disrepair?"

"My superior gave me orders to masquerade as a servant."

Taemin nodded, relieved to have his honesty, despite the fact that masquerading as a royal servant was illegal according to seven different Fire Nation laws. "And who is your superior?"

"General Shaio, of the Earth Kingdom."

She gestured to the court scribe; the man started typing furiously, recording this exchange. "I presume you are of the Earth Kingdom, as well?"

"Yes, milady."

She nodded. "Good. Guards, have him questioned for all he knows of current Earth Kingdom politics and report back to me. Yaku, send one of the apprentice scribes to record everything."

Her advisor nodded. "At once, Lady Taemin."

"Wait!" Yuuto begged, struggling against the chains. His brown eyes shimmered with tears. "Wait, please, don't let them hurt me, I was just following orders, please . . ."

_Hurt him? _she thought, looking at her guards in confusion. "Do we normally torture prisoners?"

Her guards exchanged glances, then shrugged in unison. "Only when they resist."

"Oh." Her heart sank, and she took a moment to collect herself. _Did Father actually _allow _this? _"Please inform all the guards that prisoners will not be tortured or otherwise harmed during their incarceration except under my direct orders."

"Lady Taemin," said Henso, another one of her advisors. "You have a kind heart and good intentions, but without the threat of pain, you won't be able to garner the information you need from prisoners of war."

She lifted her chin. "This isn't up for dispute, Henso. Guards, do not harm the prisoner."

Henso continued. "I understand your reluctance, milady, but you must reconsider. If a prisoner of war feels safe in their cell, it'll be an easy matter for them to concoct false information and lead us into a trap. Perhaps a kind hand will work for some prisoners, but you cannot pretend it is an effective strategy for acquiring information."

"I will not discuss this any further, Henso. That is my decision, and if I see fit to change it later, I will. Until then, you will not refute it."

"Lady Taemin—"

"I agree," Yaku interrupted, striding across the throne room. He greeted her with a quick nod, then turned back to his fellow advisor. "Torture is not an effective means of getting information. Under duress, any prisoner will lie and misinform simply to make the pain stop. And misinformation is, as you just implied, more dangerous than no information at all."

Still shackled between the guards, the Earth Kingdom boy named Yuuto slumped with relief.

"Araneo, Xu Lo, Zhi Zhu," Taemin said, turning to her remaining advisors. "What are your stances on this?"

"Henso has a point," Araneo said. "Hardened soldiers won't give up information without reason, and we can't bargain with all of them."

Taemin nodded, turning her head slightly to single out her next advisor. Xu Lo cleared his throat. "On this matter, I'd have to agree with Yaku. Torture will produce misinformation, and risking our soldiers on such knowledge would make us lose the war before the year is over."

_Two for and two against. _She inclined her head toward Zhi Zhu. "And you?"

"I'm sorry milady, but I agree with Henso. No good soldier will betray his country just because we ask them to."

_Good point, _she thought, wincing. She glanced back at Yaku, waiting for an objection to the other advisors' words, but he simply looked back at her, shoulders squared. _Yaku will be disappointed if I give in, but they _do _know more about Fire Nation politics than I do, and they never steered Father in the wrong direction. _

"The majority seems to believe that torture is a viable means of extracting information from prisoners," she said, hating the stiffness in her voice, the apathy. "Before I decide, are there any other comments regarding this decision?"

Yaku spoke, voice coming on the heels of her question. "I only wish to say that your father always chose what he thought was best for our country, and best for our people. I only hope you can do the same." He raised his eyes, silently challenging her, judgment heavy across his features.

_I must be decisive. _"I see. Then I hold to my original decision. No prisoners will be harmed without my explicit permission. Now take this spy away and question him. I _trust_"—and here, she gave Yuuto a hard glance—"that he will answer honestly."

The yellow-haired man nodded, his movements jerky with tension. The guards pulled him to his feet and led him out of the room, chains jingling as he disappeared down the hall.

Taemin glanced around the throne room, meeting every pair of eyes except for those concealed by helmets. "I wish to thank you all for your input. I understand that my age makes me less experienced in matters of politics, so your insight is quite useful to me. But Yaku is right. I am Fire Lord, and I must make what _I _believe to be the best choice for situations like these."

"Milady, forgive me if this seems abrupt," Henso said, kowtowing at the base of the dais. "but I believe Yaku may be manipulating you."

She blinked. Yaku's head whipped around so he could stare at the bald man. "That's absolutely ridiculous. Fire Lord Kaso personally appointed me as his advisor—"

"And every Fire Lord has the right to select their _own _advisors. Fire Lord Zuko cleared out his father's whole Cabinet after he took the crown. Why should Lady Taemin be forced to obey her father's chief advisors?"

"She doesn't _have _to obey anyone. But I think, after years of harmony under Fire Lord Kaso's reign, it would be unwise for her to discard us so casually."

Henso scoffed. "Kaso was a man built for peace. Now that the peace is gone, his decisions are irrelevant. And didn't you just say that a Fire Lord has to do their best to rule the country based on what is in its best interests?"

Taemin intervened. "Enough. I will not stand here while you make base accusations about each other. And I would also remind you that my father appointed _both _of you, so I could just as easily have _both _of you removed from power."

Her advisors looked away, sufficiently chastised.

"Henso, if your only grounds for accusing Yaku of manipulation are based on his devotion to my father, you're going to find yourself demoted faster than a stampeding komodo rhino. Unless you have a legitimate reason for accusing Yaku of treachery, I suggest you drop this matter at once."

The bald man bowed his head. "I understand, milady. I apologize for my foolishness."

She nodded once. "Good. Now, how long until the city-wide feast starts?"

"Half an hour," Araneo said, glancing at the clock on the wall. "Would you like to adjourn court for the night?"

"Yes." She signaled the firebenders in the corners to extinguish the flames by the dais. "Send my handmaids to my room with proper party attire. I want to make an appearance for my people." _Agni knows they need it. _


	21. Royal Duties

Chapter Twenty-One

The past four days had been miserable. Taking over his brother's duties didn't make things any easier.

Yumao bent over the parchment, pen streaking across the paper as he spun words he'd already produced a dozen different times for a dozen different noblemen. The muscles in his hands were cramping worse than they had during his calligraphy lessons in elementary school. He sighed, writing down the final sentiments, then set the letter aside for his attendant to fold up and send to some rich family in the Earth Kingdom. "Why does my brother have this many contacts? _N__obody _needs this many friends!"

His servant said nothing, rolling up the paper and applying the wax seal. King Haran had ordered them to contact every major Earth Kingdom family, but Yumao wasn't sure if it was tradition or cruelty that had urged him to it through the postage system. _Always the path of most resistance with him, _Yumao thought, starting on another letter, this one addressed to the Foehn family. _Candles instead of light bulbs, postage instead of phone calls. Next thing I know, he's going to tell me to _walk _to Republic City to retrieve my bride. _

He sighed, setting aside his pen and turning to his servant. "I'm going to the bathroom. Take a ten minute break, then come back with some tea. We're in for another long night."

The boy nodded and rushed over to the door, grabbing the now-empty tea cups Yumao had requested two hours ago. The Earth Prince stood, joints cracking much too loudly for his age, then headed to his personal bathroom. When he'd turned eighteen, his father had brought a whole team of designers in to create a living space to his exact specifications. They'd balked at the thought of placing a bathroom next to his study, instead of adjacent to his bedroom, but these days, the convenience eased his torment. He spent more time in his study than he did in any other room in the palace.

Once the most important business had been attended to, he scrubbed his hands in the bathroom sink and took a look at himself in the mirror. Shadows ringed his eyes, and his pallid skin seemed too tight over his cheekbones. _When was the last time I ate? _he wondered, just registering the pain in his stomach. _Too long. I should head to the kitchen._

After hours of letter-writing, getting away from his study was a relief. The long walk from his wing in the palace allowed him to stretch his legs, and by the time he caught his first whiff of komodo chicken, he felt almost human again. The fact that the windows were dark meant he'd been trapped in his study even longer than he'd thought, and with a sigh, he pushed his expected bedtime back another hour.

"Good evening, Prince Yumao," the cook said as he peered through the kitchen door. He supposed he could've just gone into the dining room and ordered something, but he'd always believed that having a cordial relationship with the servants led to a smoother operation, and he hadn't seen Sanae in a while.

"Hey, Sanae. Thought I smelled komodo chicken, so I figured I'd stop by."

The woman smiled. "You used to say the same thing whenever you smelled baked goods coming from this kitchen."

A strand of auburn hair stuck out of her ponytail, and he felt an impulse to push it back behind her ear. And then he remembered that he was getting married soon, to a girl he didn't even know, and that consorting with the cooks probably wasn't appropriate behavior for a prince. "You have a hair sticking out of your ponytail."

Sanae blushed, eyes panning up as if she'd actually be able to see the back of her head. "Oh. Now I'll be thinking about that until I have a chance to fix it."

"Sorry. Um, so . . ."

"You want a plate of komodo chicken? I'm assuming that's why you came all this way."

"Yes, please. When you have a moment."

The young woman smiled and flitted across the kitchen, peering into an oven. "Well, it'll be another minute or two, but I think I can manage it. Oh, Prince Yoru is awake, if you didn't already know."

"Really?" _Oh, thank the spirits. _"In that case, can you also get me a bowl of soup to bring to him? Something light, so it won't upset his stomach."

"I could send one of the servants to feed him," Sanae said, a smile dawning on her round face. "But knowing you, you'll want to take it to him yourself."

"Yes, that's right."

Sanae went over to the pot of soup sitting on the stove, tasted it, then grabbed a ladle and poured some into a bowl. Steam rose from the top as she set it aside to check on the komodo chicken, and in less than a minute, both dishes were sitting on a metal tray for him.

"Thanks, Sanae. Give everyone else my greeting. If I'm lucky, I'll see you again before my hand falls off from writing too much."

She waved to him as he disappeared down the hallway, tray in hand.

It wasn't a far walk to the infirmary; his father had ordered it be placed near the kitchens so it would be centered in the palace and easily accessible to servants and royalty alike. Yoru would be staying in one of the private rooms, away from the nurses and patients, probably the same room in which they'd fought off the sparrowkeet flu two years ago.

"Excuse me," he said to the first nurse he saw. The woman glanced up from her tray of medicine(the same trays they used in the kitchen, he noted with some surprise), eyes glinting with recognition. Wordlessly, she gave an awkward half-bow, still clutching the tray close to her chest. "I'm looking for my brother."

"Down that corridor, second room to the left, Prince Yumao."

He thanked her and hurried in the indicated direction. The tray was growing heavy in his hands, resting on sore muscles. _I__t's been a long day. But I can't pawn off all my brother's tasks to him yet. He's still recovering. _

He stepped into Yoru's room and found his brother staring at the ceiling, a blank look on his face. When Yumao didn't immediately approach, Yoru turned his head and looked over at him. "Oh, it's you. I thought it was going to be another damned doctor trying to interrupt my rest."

Relieved to hear the thread of emotion in his brother's voice, Yumao approached the bedside and set the tray on the table. "I brought you soup. And why do you have so many friends?"

Yoru started to chuckle, then grimaced. Yumao hovered over him, fingers twitching as if he could actually do something to alleviate the pain. His brother sunk deeper into the mattress and sighed. "Don't try to play doctor. I'm fine. The nurses said some stomach pain was normal for this kind of poison. They _also _said I had to eat, so if you don't mind bringing that soup over here where I can reach it . . ."

Yumao did as he was asked, laying a cloth between the fabric of his brother's hospital gown and the steaming bowl. The older man started to eat, slowly at first, then with more verve. "Who did you have to fuck to get this? It's amazing."

He rolled his eyes. "No one. Sanae made it for you because she's nice."

It was silent for a while, as they ate. Yumao sat at the side of the bed, relieved to have a break from his letter-writing duties, but even more relieved to hear his brother's voice. _How am I going to manage when he goes off to war? I'm not cut out for this. _

He sighed, and a rare smile found Yoru's lips. "You look sicker than I feel."

"I'm exhausted. You have too many contacts, and Father wants me to write them all."

"Did you tell him there's this invention called the telephone?"

"No. That would've been rude."

"Brother, the first thing you have to learn when dealing with Father is that you're never going to get your way by acting subservient. Be rude, make jokes, call him out on stupid aspects of his plans. That's how I get my way."

"Father loves you best." He took another bite of his komodo chicken, thinking. _Father always loved you best. _

"Hey, Yumao . . . You know that's not true, right? He loves you just as much."

He shrugged.

Yoru sighed. "We're Earth Kingdom, not Fire Nation. We work together as a whole, not against each other. We move more stone when we cooperate than we ever could alone."

_ Assuming all parties involved are earthbenders. _He smiled. "I know. Nevertheless, I'm stuck with _your _paperwork, and I'm going to be up until one doing it."

Yoru's grin returned. "Yes, what will you do when I go off to war?"

"I was wondering the same."

"Well, you'll be married by then. I'm sure the princess of the water tribe will know how to write letters."

"I'm not going to ask my wife to do my duties."

"I do. And it's sort of irrelevant, considering they're _my _duties, not yours."

Yumao grabbed the last bit of meat from his plate, dipped it in sauce, and popped it into his mouth. Komodo chicken was really more of a Fire Nation food, though there were some komodo chicken farms in the Earth Kingdom. Still, he expected not to see too many of these from here on out. "Father mentioned that Chief Narue of the Northern Water Tribe had sent him a letter today. He only told me my _bride_" —his tongue tripped over the word— "would be arriving within the week, once he could send someone to collect her."

"Within the week? You'd almost think she was already in the Earth Kingdom."

He shrugged. "Father's having the event planner set up the wedding for within the month. I'll be expected to court her, just like I would any woman."

"Well, any woman you don't pay for," Yoru said.

Yumao threw him a sharp look. "Point being, I'll have to stay at her side and show her around New Haran, and I want to know if you know where I should take her."

"The lotus fountain in city square, that restaurant with all the mirrors, the palace gardens. Show her around yourself; the garden tours don't cover half of what's there. And take her downtown to see the lights. New Haran is the most modern city in the world. Let her see it in all its grandeur."

Yumao nodded, committing those places to memory. They were all places where he'd "dated" concubines, all places designed for people with prestige or money. "Is that how you got Xing to sleep with you?"

"That's how Xing got _me _to sleep with _her_."

He rolled his eyes. "She _is _your wife, you know."

"Yes, she reminds me of that on a daily basis."

"That's not nice."

"We're royalty. We don't have to be nice, we just have to be useful."

Yumao swallowed against the coil of anger in his stomach, hoping Yoru wouldn't notice the frustration writ bold across his face. When his brother arched an eyebrow, he let out a sigh. "Are you done with your soup?"

"Yes. Take it back to the kitchen, for me, would you?"

Wordlessly, he took the bowl back and set in on the tray beside his now-empty plate of komodo chicken. He'd have one of the servants bring it back so the dishes could be washed, but he wasn't about to go wandering the halls like a steward. _Bad enough I fetch food for myself in the first place. I should've just waited for my servant to get back and told him to do it. _

"Yumao, one more thing."

He paused in the doorway. "What?"

"Did you tell Xing to open that letter?"

His mind flickered back to the gala, to his brother's insistence on passing on that message, and his subsequent encounter with Xing. At the time, he'd been curious as to what was so important that Yoru would bring it up during what could've been his final words. Now, with his brother recovering from the assassin's poison and irritation welling up inside him, he didn't care. "I told her. I'm sure whatever you had to say that was so important reached her."

Yoru's eyes flickered away, and he rolled, turning once again to stare at the ceiling, in the same position he'd lain in when Yumao had first entered. "Good. It was an important message." His words were curt, emotionless. As if Yoru had lifted a wall between them.

_ Fine, _he thought, walking away. _Then let there be a wall._

* * *

><p>"And this is the West Garden." Irruk made a sweeping gesture, his sleeve wafting even in the stagnant city air.<p>

"Oh, it's beautiful. Don't you think so, Freya?"

Freya glanced up from the pot of panda lilies on the steps. "It's lovely." Her voice was weak, her shoulders sagging. Her family had been staying at Irruk's house for four days, ever since he'd invited them over in New Haran's City Hall, and while he'd extended every comfort and hospitality to them, Freya couldn't shake the feeling that he wanted something more. _Maybe he wants to scam us, _she thought, pretending to admire a row of topiary. Some poor gardener had probably spent hours pruning each hedge, shaping them into such figures as komodo rhinos and sparrowkeets.

Their tour continued, a repeat of the shorter tour Irruk had given them when they'd arrived. Her brother walked at her side, twirling a miniature paper parasol between his fingers. "Where did you get that?" Freya asked.

Kotai glanced up. "There was a bunch of them in the kitchen. Irruk said he put them in drinks." The boy frowned. "Do you think he meant tea or alcohol?"

"Alcohol." She'd seen the rows of colored bottles lined up on the kitchen shelves when she'd been poking around for something to eat. If nothing else, Irruk had expensive tastes.

"And this is the koi pond," Irruk said, gesturing toward the looping channels at their feet. "We've got several different breeds here. I'm fond of the red and white ones. Aren't they delightful?"

"I don't trust any man that uses the word 'delightful' more than once an hour," she murmured to her brother. He nodded emphatically, then started spinning the tiny parasol so the patterns blurred into streaks of color.

They made it through the garden, and Irruk led them back inside. "That's the end of today's tour. If you'd like any refreshments, the kitchen is at your disposal. I would offer you a servant to tend to your needs, but I'm afraid I don't allow such . . . unimportant people in my house. You understand."

_I understand that you're a jerk, _she thought, pressing her lips together to avoid voicing her thoughts. Her mother's laugh tinkled through the room. "Oh, we understand completely. Never trust a street rat to walk through your halls—they'll steal the first valuable thing they come across."

Her teeth ground together. She'd invited Ferron into her home dozens of times, and he'd never stolen anything. Not that he'd ever strayed from her side, or stayed more than an hour per visit. He'd always walked in the exact center of the hallway, arms rigid at his side, as if he was afraid even touching the furniture would cause it to collapse.

Thinking of Ferron made her heart ache anew. She shoved the thought aside and headed over to the tea-maker by the sink. Chamomile. That's what she needed. It would ease her nerves, calm her system. And the taste would sooth the sore spot in her heart.

"Freya, dear, your father and I are heading out. We want to explore the city. Would you like to come?"

"No thanks." She poured the ingredients into the tea maker and started it. The machine hummed as it worked, a constant, meaningless buzz that had her mind wandering after just a few seconds. She was barely cognizant of Kotai wandering back to his room, and even less aware of Irruk approaching from behind.

"You know," he said. Freya jumped, then whirled to face him. "Despite the hair, you are a lovely young lady."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Thanks."

"I was wondering if you had anyone in your life—a boyfriend, a fiance, something like that."

"I'm too young to have a fiance." _And if I wanted a boyfriend that badly I would've gone with Ferron. _

"Ah. So, no one? No great love?"

"No one." She stepped around him, the edge of her hip gliding against the counter as she tried to put some distance between them. He turned, shifting closer as she pulled a tea cup from the cupboard.

"Such a shame. Then again, with the way things are in Ba Sing Se, it's no surprise that you never found anyone who could meet your standards."

"What are you implying?" she demanded.

"Just that there's a lot of poverty in Ba Sing Se. It's not the grand city it used to be."

She said nothing, waiting for the tea maker to finish producing a cup's worth the beverage. The dark liquid dripped into the pot with frustrating sluggishness.

Irruk went on. "I'm sure you'll find more suitable companions here. New Haran is the greatest city in the world."

"I disagree."

"Oh? Then what's your favorite city?"

_Anywhere but here._ "Republic City. It has so much more personality than this place."

Irruk slid another step closer. She threw him an annoyed glance, making a deliberate movement away from him. His eyes flickered down to her feet, his genial smile faltering for just a moment. When he looked at her again, his dark blue eyes went as cold as midnight in winter. Freya's eyes darted to a pot of panda lilies as she judged how much concentration it would take to bend the pot over Irruk and upend it over his head.

"You are a unique little treasure, aren't you?" Irruk finally said.

The line of her jaw hardened. Behind her, a bell went off, announcing the end of the brewing process. She made no move to take her tea.

Irruk's eyes flickered between her face and the tea maker. Then, smooth as vegetable oil on a tiled floor, he stepped back and started for the living room. When he reached the doorway, he paused, his hand coming to rest on the wood. "I like you quite a bit, Freya. You have a spark. It's been a long time since I've met someone like you." He stepped across the threshold, leaving her alone.

Freya turned to the tea maker, poured until her cup was full, then hurried to her temporary bedroom, trying to fight the furious tears welling up in her eyes. How _dare_ he? How dare he treat her like she was some treasure to be acquired? How dare he corner her when her parents were out? How dare he act as if the whole ordeal had been nothing but an ordinary encounter?

_Bastard, _she thought, gulping down half her chamomile tea before setting it on her desk. _Fine. If he wants to step where he doesn't belong, I'll keep a record of it. And if he ever tries anything, I'll have evidence against him. _She pulled a notebook out of her backpack, ripped out the last three pages of sketches, and started writing.

* * *

><p>Three thousand torches lit the destroyed city, two-thirds of them surrounding the buffet tables. Taemin sat at the end of the royal table, looking out at the plaza as thousands of survivors stuffed bread rolls and dumplings in their mouths. Servers moved up and down the rows, replacing depleted trays to appease the starving guests. <em>This was the right choice, <em>she told herself, trying to ignore her advisors' objections. Costly. Not enough resources. Not important enough to merit her attention when there was a war to fight. But at least some of her people would go back to the shelters with full stomachs.

She turned to Yaku. "What else needs to be dealt with for the war?"

"Recruitment," he said at once. "Conscription is always an option, but you should make a campaign for voluntary service. Enough people are furious about the attack. They want to fight back."

She nodded. "Schedule a television appearance for me. Do it for several channels and stagger the appearances. I'll need details on how citizens can apply for military service, and the benefits of doing so."

"Yes, my lady. I'll have a list for you within the hour." He hurried off, the papers on his clipboard fluttering in the wind. Taemin picked up several moon peaches and set them on her plate.

Before she could even bite into one, another of her advisors approached, clipboard in hand. "My lady, if you have a moment."

She set down her moon peach. "What is it, Araneo?"

"Henso and I have been discussing the possibility of getting you a new firebending teacher, since Xaris has not been seen since the attack."

_Because he's dead, _Taemin thought, looking down at her plate. "I see."

"We were wondering if you might have any specific teacher in mind."

"I don't have time for firebending lessons with a war going on."

"Henso and I believe it is in your best interest."

_And are you Henso's servant or his equal? _She bit back the question—it had no place here, in front of the entire city. "Am I going to be on the front lines?"

Something like annoyance flickered in Araneo's eyes. "Not unless you choose to be. But we believe firebending would help you relax."

Her expression, already pinched, soured further. She said nothing.

"Lady Taemin, please forgive me if this seems too domineering, but a Fire Lady must develop a rounded skill set. Firebending is part of who you are. You cannot ignore it any more than you can ignore the fact that you are one of the youngest rulers ever to take charge of the Fire Nation. And being royalty comes with its own perils. Say someone challenges you to an Agni-Kai. What would you do?"

"No one's challenged a Fire Lord to an Agni-Kai in three generations."

"Say someone does. Will you dishonor yourself by refusing to fight, or will you accept their challenge, knowing you can triumph?"

"I'll do the firebending lessons," she snapped, feeling more like the twelve-year-old she was than she had since before the bombings. "But I don't have to like it."

Araneo nodded, making note of that on her clipboard. "Good. You'll start tomorrow, or as soon as your preferred teacher can make it here. Do you have anyone in mind?"

Taemin thought about it for a moment. If she'd had the option, she'd have contacted one of her cousins to teach her. But except for Meira and Zelda in the North Pole, she didn't know if any of her cousins were still alive. _I should check on that, _she thought, a pit forming in her stomach. _Maybe Sanna will be willing to teach me. If she survived. _

"Lady Taemin? Do you have any suggestions."

"How many of my cousins survived the attack?"

Araneo blinked. "Um . . ."

"My Lady," Henso said, approaching the table. He bowed his head. "I hope you are enjoying your dinner. Regarding your question, I'm afraid we've been unable to reach any of your cousins since the attack, though it's safe to assume the ones in the Northern Water Tribe survived. And being a branch of the royal family, your cousins will likely be busy sorting out political issues. At least the ones old enough to do so." His eyes focused on her face, and she stiffened, noting the strange look of disappointment there. _Or contempt, _she thought, hands clenching into fists. Henso went on. "If you don't have any other suggestions, we will select a teacher for you."

"Fine." She grabbed a moon peach from her plate and bit into it, trying to temper her frustration. The sweet juice flowed across her tongue, plunging her into memories of the last time she'd had moon peaches. Sitting in the palace dining hall, her mother's tinkling laugh ringing above the crowd as she sipped from a glass of wine, her father smiling broadly as Yaku tried and failed to censor him. _Father always said what he was thinking, even when his advisors told him not to. But Father knew what he was doing. _"Do whatever you want," she said. "Just leave me alone."

Surprise flickered across her advisors' faces. They exchanged glances, then bowed in unison. "As you wish, Fire Lady Taemin," Araneo said.

"We'll speak again tomorrow," Henso said. "But we are always available for counsel should you change your mind before then."

_Just go, _she thought, struggling against the sense of unfairness rippling through her lungs. _Just leave me alone for five minutes. __I never even wanted to be Fire Lady in the first place._

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes:<em>

_You guys were supposed to yell at me if I went this long without updating! How am I supposed to be motivated when no one orders me to update? Gah! But anyway, sorry for the delay. I know the long time between updates probably means you've forgotten a lot of the minor characters, so I really will try to be better about fleshing those characters out more before I add new ones. Hopefully the next chapter will come sooner, though I do have a lot of band stuff coming up this month. Anyway, thanks to all my readers, and special thanks for any of you who choose to review. Happy Halloween!_


	22. Things Left Behind

Chapter Twenty-Two

Meira sat in the basement of Kuang's Cuisine, sipping from a cup of tea and tapping her foot on the cement. She'd spoken to Sora every night since her first visit, and he'd filled her in on details about the war and the resulting political climate. Conversations with others had unveiled similar facts, many of them centering around the assassination attempt on the Earth Prince and the conspicuous absence of the Avatar.

But tonight, she decided, she'd make a plan. Tonight, she'd dig up something that would help her find the resistance movement.

"Are we going to be waiting much longer?" Zelda asked, looking up at her. "We've been here almost an hour. I don't think Sora's coming."

"He's here every night," Meira whispered. But even as she said it, she struggled to ignore the knot of unease under her ribs. In the few days she'd been coming here, he'd shown up before she'd arrived. Now, just sitting here as she waited for something to happen, she worried that maybe her sister was right. Worried that someone had overheard Sora saying something about the Earth Kingdom or Fire Nation and had detained him. Though Republic City was considered neutral, she didn't doubt that there were people here who valued their roots more than their neighbors.

"Still waiting around?" Mad Lin asked. Her eyelids were half closed, as if the layers of makeup she'd smeared on top of them were weighing them down.

"Yes." Meira took another sip of tea. She thought it was ginseng, though the myriad of other flavors made it hard to tell. Mad Lin apparently liked putting extra ingredients in the tea she served. "Do you know where Sora is?"

The woman shrugged, but her expression didn't change. "Probably on his way."

"Does he usually wait this long to show?" Meira asked, already knowing he didn't.

Mad Lin smirked. "Not when he's got such a pretty woman waiting on him."

Meira controlled the impulse to roll her eyes. True, she'd been attractive enough by water tribe standards, but in the city, where cosmetic procedures had become a way of life and men and women alike wore makeup, jewelry, and expensive clothes, the standard of beauty seemed almost unattainable for someone who couldn't afford those things.

"You think I'm kidding," Mad Lin said, her smirk shifting into a more conventional smile. "I'm not. Sora's been steaming over you ever since you walked in the door."

"Steaming over me?" she repeated.

The woman's eyes flitted to Zelda's face, and Meira could only assume that she was censoring herself when she clarified. "He likes you."

"Oh." Her heart jumped in her chest, the sensation bizarrely similar to a hiccup. "You think so?"

Someone called to Mad Lin from across the room, demanding another drink. From the way the man's voice slurred, Meira guessed that he didn't really need any more drinks tonight. But as Mad Lin moved toward the liquor shelf, she supposed that didn't make a difference. "Like I said, Sora's steaming for you," Mad Lin said as she walked away. "You might want to take the opportunity. I heard he's good in . . . you know."

Her cheeks warmed. She stared at her feet for a moment, ignoring the way her younger sister looked at her, one eyebrow arched. _Of course Zelda would've caught that, _she thought, the heat spreading from her cheeks to the back of her neck. _It wasn't even subtle. _

When she didn't speak for a few moments, Zelda leaned closer. "What do you think?"

"About what?"

"About _Sora_."

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "He's got the mind of a scholar and the wit of someone with actual intelligence."

"So you like him."

Meira shrugged. "His information has been very useful in helping us adjust to the political climate surrounding the war."

The firebender stared at her for several seconds, then pressed a hand to her mouth, snickering.

"What?" Meira demanded.

"Nothing." Zelda elbowed her in the ribs. "I'm just saying, you never had that reaction to any of your suitors."

She remembered that awful Peace Ceremony in the North Pole and shuddered. Not only had every single suitor been a complete insult to her station, but her father had set them up for her believing she'd deign to marry one of them. It was as if he hadn't known her at all. As if he hadn't given any consideration to the men he'd selected for her apart from their station or bloodline.

As if he hadn't cared whether she'd liked any of them.

Beside her, Zelda frowned. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you mad."

_Brush it off, _Meira told herself. _None of it matters now. _"It's all right. I'm not going to marry any of those wretched suitors, so there's no point in feeling bad about it."

Zelda nodded, accepting that as the end of the conversation. Several minutes passed, and Meira considered approaching one of the others, since Sora hadn't yet arrived. Just as she was about to stand, the door swung open. She looked over, her heart jumping, then sinking again as a man with two chins and enough wrinkles for a komodo rhino walked through the door. A sigh escaped her lips, dying quickly when she realized that the rest of the room had fallen silent. She glanced at the others, their faces familiar after several days of nightly meetings. They all stared at the man in the doorway, their expressions made of stone.

"Attention, all of you." The man's voice boomed in her eardrums, echoing against the cement floor. "This and all future meetings are hereby canceled. The police chief has declared at all anti-war sentiment is to disappear from the city at once."

Meira stood. "Wait a minute. You can't cancel our meetings. We're entitled to our beliefs."

"We can and will disband this group." The man held up a piece of paper with gold borders. A red circle glared at them from the bottom of the paper, likely an official seal of some sort. "The United Republic Council has convened at City Hall to discuss potential alliances for the war."

_The United Republic can't just pick a side, _she thought, a chasm opening up in her heart. _They've got people of every nation living here. Republic City is sandwiched between the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation. __They're putting everyone at risk._

Mad Lin stepped forward. "Hey, jackass, this is a violation of our rights."

"Police Chief Adela says—"

Another voice broke in, this one belonging to a man wearing a ponytail. "We're not against the war. We're just philosophers."

"The chief has _ordered_—" This time, a whole chorus of frustrated shouts erupted over the man's statement. Everyone rose from their chairs, advancing on the officer like armadillo wolves closing in on their prey.

Meira didn't see who threw the first fireball, but as it streaked across the room and struck the officer's plated armor, the chaos dissolved any semblance of order. Earthbenders tore up the floor to fling chunks of cement at the man. As they did, he made a sharp motion with his wrists, and his metal visor came down to protect his face. "You will cease at once!"

Mad Lin charged forward, a piece of cement striking her tattoo-covered shoulder even as her heel slammed into the officer's breastplate. "You tell the council they can't stop us from meeting," she said. "My mother was there last time the council stepped out of line—I know when we're being oppressed."

"Cease at once, or I will have you all arrested!"

Meira turned to her sister, hoping to usher her out the door before the fight could escalate any further. Instead, she saw Zelda holding a fireball in her hand, gritting her teeth as she stared into the chaos. "No!" she yelled, slapping Zelda's wrist and knocking the fire out of her hand. The fireball died in midair, no longer sustained by the firebender's energy.

"Hey!"

"We're getting out of here."

"But Meira—"

"No arguments." Her fingers coiled around Zelda's upper arm. She started dragging her sister toward the door, the adrenaline rush not quite masking the fact that her sister was fighting her every step. "Come _on_. We don't have time for this!"

"Then _you _go!" Zelda yelled, grabbing Meira's wrist in an attempt to free her own. Her skin felt feverish, and the air around her wavered.

"Stop this nonsense. This is turning into a riot." She ducked as a shard of cement sailed past her face, then glowered in the direction it had come from. Before she could spot whoever had thrown it, the tiny windows on the edge of the room shattered, raining glass across the floor. Meira threw her hands in front of her face to protect her eyes, realizing too late that the moment of distraction allowed her sister to rush into the middle of the fray. Before she could process anything more than that, several black objects flew through the broken windows and hit the floor, spewing smoke into the air.

Behind her, she heard metal hit the floor. _The police officer, _she thought, too distracted by the chaos to feel either regret or relief. The earthbenders in the room kept flinging rocks. Halfway across the room, Zelda erected a wall of fire that, in other circumstances, would've made Meira cheer. Instead, the flames increased her panic. She stood, frozen, as the frenzy turned into a riot.

_I have to do something, _she thought, looking around for a water source. Her eyes settled on the shelves of liquor lining the walls. It wasn't water, but alcohol was still liquid, and she'd be able to bend it. She raised her arms, getting ready to pull the bottles toward her, though she wasn't yet sure what she intended to do with them. With all the fire in the room, smashing liquor bottles was a surefire way to start an inferno.

Before she could bend the bottles toward her, a hand wrapped around her shoulder, yanking her back. She stumbled, arms flailing as her boots crunched over shards of glass. "What the—"

"It's me," Sora whispered into her ear. "I'm getting you out of here." She looked back, mouth falling open. The acrid taste of smoke curled along her tongue, making her grimace. Sora took her hand and started pulling her toward the broken windows, pulling a red cloth over his mouth as they headed into the thickest part of the smoke.

"Wait! My sister—"

"She'll be fine."

"Sora—"

"They'll just arrest her," he said, his vivid green eyes meeting hers for the first time since the someone had smashed the windows. _Did he do that? _she wondered, dazed. _Or are there more police outside? _

"They'll find out who she is." The words ended in a coughing fit, the smoke scraping the insides of her lungs like barbed wire.

"Then they'll either release her for diplomacy's sake or they'll send her back to the Northern Water Tribe."

Her eyes started watering. "I can't just leave her."

"Meira!" he snapped, his voice louder than she'd ever heard it. "Let it go. I'll take care of it."

_How? _she wondered, watching him knock out the last bits of glass clinging to the outside of the window. Throat burning, she couldn't even voice the question echoing through her mind. _How can he just leave everyone here? _

Sora pulled himself up so he was perched on the windowsill. "Take my hand."

She hesitated for a moment, glancing back through the smoke and fire. Sora claimed Zelda would be out of jail almost as soon as she was thrown into it, but what if she didn't even make it that far? What if a stray fireball caught her in the back of the head, or worse? _She could die, _Meira realized, horror shooting through her lungs even as the smoke crippled them.

"You can't go back for her," Sora said, grabbing her hand and pulling her back to the window. "You'll collapse from smoke inhalation before you get there."

Torn, she allowed him to pull her onto the windowsill. From there, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her to the sidewalk. She swayed with every step, her vision blurry, her head swimming. Her knees gave out at one point, folding under her like broken chairs. Her lungs heaved with every cough, and somehow, the outside air seemed just as smoky as the air inside. "Sora, stop. I can't breathe."

His hold around her only tightened. "We have to get out of here. This street is crawling with cops, and they're going to arrest anyone they can connect with the anti-war movement."

"But we're not—" She coughed again, doubling over. "It was all just discussion. We weren't _planning _anything."

Sora ignored her comments. "The smoke will give us cover so we can get out of here, but you have to stay quiet."

Dazed, she nodded, trying to quiet her wheezing. They turned abruptly, crossing the street. Satomobile horns blared at them as they staggered across the sidewalk. "Where are we . . ." she began, then closed her mouth as she felt another fit coming on.

"My apartment. You're breathing in too much smoke. It's going to make you sick for a while."

The words sounded odd to her ears. A part of her had hoped he'd take her to his apartment, though she'd never have admitted it, nor expected it to be under such dire circumstances. Still, she was hardly in a position to complain. She let him lead her down the sidewalks while she looked up to see a massive, metal airship looming over them. _Probably the police, _she thought, remembering snippets she'd heard about Republic City's police force. Though much of the technology had remained since Avatar Korra's time, it surprised her to see such an old piece of metal still in use. _Then again, maybe someone's renting the newer airships for the war, _she thought, looking away.

It wasn't a far walk. In fact, they were still in the ritzy part of the city when Sora coaxed her into one of the buildings. A marble floor spread out in front of her, made up of alternating white and black squares. In the center of the lobby, a fountain in the shape of Avatar Korra spewed water from several points, making it look like statue was waterbending. Beyond that, a fire glowed in a massive, brick hearth surrounded by plush green chairs and polished end tables. Automatically, Meira straightened, taking in the grandeur as a sense of inferiority pervaded her heart.

She had lived in the most luxurious household in the North Pole, and her home didn't even compare to the lobby of an apartment building.

"The elevator's this way. Don't cry."

"I'm not," she said, lifting her hands to her face, then fighting a wave of shock as her fingertips came away moist.

Sora paused by the desk, which was manned by a tall man in a crisp, crimson suit. "Arrange to have room service bring us something to eat," Sora said.

"Yes, sir."

Sora turned his attention back to her, hitting the button on the elevator and grasping her hand even tighter. "You're going to be all right."

She nodded numbly, not bothering to say that she was more worried about Zelda's well-being than her own. _Of course I'm going to be all right, _she thought. _I'm not going to be arrested tonight. _

The elevator doors parted and Sora led her inside. Though Meira could still feel the ill effects of the smoke, her head had cleared since she'd started breathing clean air again. She slipped her hand out of Sora's grasp and laced her fingers together in front of her. This wasn't the time to be encouraging a romantic relationship, and while she couldn't help the attraction she felt for him, she wasn't about to act on it right now.

Sora took the hint, stepping away from her and letting his arms rest against his sides. When the elevator opened, he stepped out and glanced at her. She joined him, then followed him down the corridor, across the rich, emerald carpet and past pleasant beige walls. "We're the only ones on this floor right now," he said, unlocking one of the doors with a key he dug out of his pocket. "My sister might pop in. Or not. She likes to spend the nights out."

Meira made no comment, unsure if he'd meant to imply what her muddled mind had interpreted, or if his remark was completely innocent. As they stepped inside, he gestured for her to sit on the long, three-cushion couch, then headed over to the tea-maker sitting on the kitchen counter. She watched him, more fascinated with his movements than what he was doing. He walked like a tigerdillo, his gait lithe, graceful, but he prepared tea for her almost gingerly, taking time to fill a teacup nearly to the rim with dark liquid. Then he pulled a fist-sized jar of honey from the shelf and drizzled some into the cup before bringing it over and setting it on the coffee table. "It's chamomile. It'll ease your nerves."

She picked up the cup without much enthusiasm and drank. Sora hurried between rooms, collecting towels, buckets, blankets. He retrieved a green and black quilt and wrapped it around her shoulders as she drank.

It was all strangely domestic.

Room service arrived soon after with a cart of food. Sora pulled several bills from his wallet and handed them to the man who'd delivered the cart, then brought the first of several plates over to the table. "You'll feel better if you eat."

Meira said nothing, only set aside her tea and pulled the plate closer. She started with the rice, partly because that would go down easier than some of the other stuff and partly because she doubted she could enjoy the quality of the other foods in her current state. Her immediate disorientation had faded, but now she felt curiously numb, all of tonight's events fading to the back of her mind as she focused on the mechanical movements of eating.

"I'm going to get you some ice," Sora said, picking up a bucket and heading for the door. "I'll be back in a minute."

"Stay," she said, her voice hoarse. "Just get me some water."

Surprise flitted across his face, but he obeyed, heading to the sink and filling a glass half full of water. She noticed he had one of those fancy water filters she'd seen advertised on TV. As he set the glass in front of her, she moved her hand over the water and drew it out of the container, focusing on the mundane movements required to bend it. She cradled the liquid in her hand, then pressed it against her forehead, trying to dispel her growing headache.

Sora observed for perhaps half a minute, then sat on the couch, leaving about eighteen inches of space between them. "How are you feeling?"

"Miserable."

"No, I mean physically, how are you feeling? Dizzy? Nauseous?"

"I'm all right. My throat hurts a little." And her head. Her attempt at healing had done little to ease her headache, so rather than continuing, she let the water run off her face and into her hair. She drew the quilt tighter around her shoulders and stared at her feet, forcing herself to sort through tonight's nightmare. Perhaps if she hadn't spoken up, the others wouldn't have rallied so intensely. Perhaps the fight could've been avoided altogether. _Zelda would be safe. Sora and I would be talking about the war right now. _She frowned. Since there was no one else around to talk to, she supposed she could speak with him about it now. It might even get her mind off the fact that she'd left her sister in a burning building.

"I didn't think you planned on coming to the meeting," she said, setting the thought aside. "I waited almost an hour for you to show up."

"Sorry. I got tied up in some business."

"What business?"

He shrugged. "It doesn't really matter. I'm sorry for making you wait. And more sorry that I wasn't there when things went wrong."

"It probably would've turned into a disaster anyway. When the police officer came in and told us we couldn't hold meetings anymore, I started arguing with him. Then things just escalated and it turned into a riot." She closed her eyes, visions of flying fireballs dancing behind her eyelids.

"You shouldn't be upset because you stood up for yourself."

"It's hard not to be when speaking out sparked a riot."

Sora regarded her for a long moment, then folded his hands over his lap. "The ability to spur people to action with only a few words is the mark of a great leader. Any cause you devoted yourself to would flourish because of it."

"I don't think so."

"One bad outcome doesn't change the fact that you moved people to do something they wouldn't have done on their own."

"You don't know that they wouldn't have," she said. "They all seemed to have strong opinions about their meetings getting canceled."

He shook his head. "You misunderstand. You'd only been mingling with that group for a few days. They have strong opinions, I won't deny that, but they lack the courage to reveal those opinions to anyone who disagrees. The war has made them wary, and they aren't the sort of people who openly defy anything. To move them to action takes someone with charisma."

"I'm a princess. Having charisma is required of me."

"Maybe so." He frowned, as if the thought was somehow unpalatable to him. "But I think it's something more than that. People admire you, Meira. _I_ admire you."

She looked up, then away. "I appreciate that."

A beat of silence passed between them. Sora picked at the food on his plate, twirling a clump of noodles around his chopsticks. Meira returned her attention to her bowl of rice, nibbling on it as her mind drifted back to her sister. _I should look for her, _she thought. _I should've already started looking for her. I shouldn't have left. What will Father say? _She shuddered. Though her father had always been gracious and loving to her, she'd witnessed his fury. A few, unfortunate servants had displeased him greatly enough to trigger his rage over the years, and though Meira was certain he would never harm her, the sheer thought of how disappointed he'd be shot spires of ice through her heart.

"Are you cold?" Sora asked abruptly. "I can get you another blanket."

"I'm fine. Really," she added when he hurried into one of the bedrooms to find a blanket. Through the half-open door, she could see the corner of his bed, draped with wine red sheets. After days of camping out in the park, even _looking _at a bed made her feel tired. And he would probably let her sleep there, if she asked.

_But that would send the wrong impression, _she reminded herself as Sora returned with a soft blanket. Turtleducks dotted the light blue fabric, as if they were swimming across a placid pond. For some reason, the thought of swimming reminded her of how Zelda had always watched the turtle seals from the docks in the North Pole, which consequently reminded her that Zelda was either dead, hospitalized due to smoke inhalation or other injuries, or being dragged to the local jail.

She pressed her hands to her face, the reality of the situation slamming into her like a rogue wave. Her legs curled in, her face pressing against her knees as she curled into a ball. "I have to find Zelda," she said, humiliated by how her voice shook. "She could be hurt." _She could be dead. _

"You need to rest. I said I'd take care of it."

"I need to deal with it now." She stood, wiping her eyes before the tears could escape. The blankets slid off her shoulders even as she marched toward the door.

Sora's hands folded around hers. "Meira, let me deal with it. You're in no condition to be out there, and the streets are still swarming with cops. Someone might recognize you."

"I don't care." She kept walking, hands curling into fists. "My sister is in danger. My _sister_." Her sister, who had only left the Northern Water Tribe to follow her. Her sister, who she'd brought to that hellish meeting. Her sister, who had, under _her _supervision, walked into the heart of this massive city during the most turbulent political period in decades.

Sora rushed forward and intercepted her before she could reach the door. "Meira. Listen to me. It's too dangerous. I got you out of there, I can do the same for her. Let me help you."

She shook her head and nudged him aside, reaching for the door handle. She hurried down the hallway, wiping her eyes every few seconds as her vision blurred. She heard the door close behind her, then the footfalls of Sora's approach. "At least let me come with," he said, jogging to her side. "You'll be a lot better off if you have some backup. Things are probably still tense down there."

"Fine," she said because she didn't want to argue anymore. And because, though he'd tried to dissuade her from going back for Zelda, she actually felt a little better to know he was on her side.

As they stepped into the elevator, she took a moment to collect herself. She ran her fingers through her hair so it didn't look so disheveled, and took several deep breaths to dispel the storm of emotion raging inside her. By the time they reached the lobby, she'd regained her usual calm. "Thank you," she said, nodding to him. "I really do appreciate the help."

"Sure." Sora looked away. "You're welcome."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes:<em>

_I'm thinking of renaming this fic. The title it has now just doesn't seem to fit anymore. So, for those of you who are interested, I've set up a poll on my profile regarding alternative titles, though I'd be happy to hear if any of you have suggestions. Thanks, as always, to those who have read and reviewed. You guys make my day._


	23. New Connections

Chapter Twenty-Three

_This isn't going to end well, _Sora thought, not for the first time.

_This _being his return trip to Kuang's Cuisine and the consequences that would naturally derive from returning so soon after the police had arrived. _Someone's probably already seen __us__, _he thought, pulling the collar of his shirt up as if that would conceal his face.

Ahead of him, Meira strode toward the burning restaurant with little regard for the fact that, if anyone recognized her, she would probably get sent back to the North Pole.

And that, Sora decided, was a problem. Because for the first time since he'd left the Fire Nation, he'd met someone he actually trusted. _And in less than a week, _he thought as Meira crossed the street, heedless of the Satomobile drivers shouting at her. _Father would think I'm crazy, if he were still alive._

He shook off the thought. It had been a long time since his father's death. Years. The fact that he'd died in disgrace hadn't eased Sora's transition into the United Republic. Surviving without being scorned meant withholding information, pushing his old life back to the depths of his mind. Making his own way in the world wasn't a dream, but a necessity. _Kotono must feel it, too, _he thought. His younger sister had fled the Fire Nation with him after their father's trial. Surely, she wanted to wipe away the shame of it all, too.

Meira stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, her dark hair whipping around as she scanned the area for her sister. "Where do you think Zelda went?"

Sora decided against stating the obvious possibility. If the firebender had burned to death in the restaurant's basement, Meira would be distraught. And though he tried to steel himself against the rush of sympathy that inevitably accompanied that thought, he found himself wondering what he'd do in her position. _The smart thing to do would be to wait, _he thought. _Anyone__ who hasn't gotten out by now is probably dead._

"Let's check with the medical teams," he said, rather than voicing his morbid thoughts. "If she's been injured, they'll have record of either treating her or taking her to the hospital."

Meira nodded and started forward again. "Good idea."

Sora followed, hoping his suggestion hit the mark. He didn't want to spend too much time here, in this place where people might recognize him.

* * *

><p>"Steady. A few more seconds. Steady, damn it."<p>

Ferron inhaled through his teeth, knuckles going white as his fists tightened. In front of him, a stone the size of his head floated in the air, suspended by his earthbending. His jaw ached from gritting his teeth, and his back throbbed from staying in a bending stance for hours. But he'd made progress. Stone by stone, he'd made progress.

"And drop," Terrin said. Ferron let the rock fall. The impact left a small crater on the ground in front of him. The rock he'd been supporting cracked in half along a fault line, splitting as it settled.

He let out a sharp breath, arms going limp as overcooked noodles. "That can't be good for my back."

"No, but it's good for your earthbending." Terrin frowned at the rock. "You held it for twenty-two seconds. That's a nine second improvement from when we started working on it this afternoon, which is almost double what you've been able to accomplish your whole life up to this point."

"How exciting," he said, wilting. "Can we be done now?"

"Not until you can hold it for twenty-five seconds."

He groaned. "We've spent five hours getting this far. Aren't you sick of teaching me?"

Terrin crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Yeah. Doesn't change the fact that no one else is going to." He sighed. "Remember, we fled the Earth Kingdom. _While _the Earth King was looking for your help. He sent Dai-Li agents after you. If you come out to anyone else as the Avatar, we're fucked."

He bowed his head, too tired to argue. "I know."

"Still wish we could find some sort of anti-war movement in this city."

"Yeah." They'd searched all day, moving through the shopping district, the park, even the less reputable parts of town, and still, their subtle queries hadn't turned up a lead. _It would be easier if people knew I was the Avatar, _he thought. _But then the Earth King would track us down and drag us to New Haran. Or put us to trial as prisoners of war. _He shuddered.

"Take a break," Terrin finally said, closing his eyes. "But don't waste too much time. I'm serious about holding that rock up."

_Technically, it's two rocks now,_ Ferron thought. He kept his mouth shut. For being such a jerk in all other respects, Terrin was actually a decent teacher. And though Ferron wanted to crawl onto his bedroll and not wake up until the war was over, he also didn't want to upset that fragile patience. _It'll be a short break, I guess, _he thought, bowing to Terrin as he had once bowed to Sifu Fane. Once the formalities were out of the way, he started toward the edge of the park.

While they'd been searching for the anti-war movement, they'd passed dozens of water fountains. His water bottle hung from his belt, dry as the Si Wong Desert. For some reason, he'd expected nothing more taxing than Sifu Fane's three-hour training sessions, so he'd downed most of his water in the first two hours of practice. The past three hours had been hellish, his throat parched, sweat rolling down his skin in fountains without being replenished.

He'd wondered if it was actually possible to die of dehydration while surrounded by water fountains.

It took less than a minute to find the fountain. He jogged over, revitalized by the sight, and hit the button, lowering his face into the stream for a few seconds before lifting his head and moving the mouth of his water bottle under the fountain. As the liquid rose, he looked up.

And saw the beginnings of an inferno in the middle of the city.

He stared at the orange glow, at first unsure what it was. It resembled the glaring lights of the street lamps, but glowed with the flickering qualities of genuine fire. _Maybe a firebender got into a sparring match, _he thought, watching the distant flames creep up the side of a building. As the faint whine of sirens reached his ears, he abandoned his earlier guess. This was something else. Something big.

Water spilled across his hand. Reflexively, he yanked it away. Cool water sloshed from the top of his water bottle. _Jumpy today, aren't you? _he thought to himself, screwing the cap of his water bottle back on. He glanced over his shoulder, toward the hill separating him from his earthbending teacher, then back to the distant inferno.

_It's your duty to learn the elements, _he thought, remembering his teachers' lectures. _But it's also your duty to help people in need. _

With a final glance in Terrin's direction, he took off toward the fire.

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry, Miss," the healer said, hefting another box of bandages from the back of the ambulance. "We haven't picked up anyone by that name."<p>

"Are you sure?" Meira asked, following the woman as she crouched beside a man in a black suit. Ash clung to his hair and collar, and bits of his sleeve flaked off, singed in the fire. By the time Meira had returned, most of the critical patients had been taken to the hospital, and Zelda had been nowhere in sight. _Maybe she used an alias, _she thought. _Yes, Zelda would be smart enough to do that. _"She's sixteen years old, about a head shorter than I am. Her hair is dark like mine, but straighter. She—"

"I'm sorry," the woman repeated, her voice sharper than before. "We haven't picked up anyone like that. You'll have to stop by the hospital later on if you want to be sure."

Meira bit her lip, distress bubbling up in her lungs. A warm hand closed around hers. "Let's just go," Sora said. "There's nothing we can do now."

She pulled her hand away and strode over to what little remained of Kuang's Cuisine. The front part of the building had survived, though the dining area and kitchen had gone up shortly after the basement had. If one looked at it only from the front, it would've looked to be a normal restaurant. _Except no one could ever look at it that way, _she thought, biting her lip. _Not with so many sirens going off. Not when the whole street smells like a bonfire. _"This shouldn't have happened."

Sora stood beside her. "You're right. It shouldn't have. But that doesn't mean we've lost everything."

"I know that," she snapped. Of course some things remained whole—part of the building still stood, after all. But the _important _things—her sister's health, perhaps even her life—might well have been gone. _I should've stayed. I should never have left. We could've gotten out together. _

"Meira."

"I'm going to keep looking. You can go back to the apartment if you want."

"Meira, listen . . . She'll be all right. She's a firebender. Firebenders instinctively try to smother flames they can't control."

"She's just learning."

"Even so." Sora stepped forward and took her hand between both of his. "Your sister is resourceful and clever, just like you. She probably escaped before the ambulances got here and went somewhere she won't be easily tracked."

The waterbender opened her mouth to reply, then paused, considering his logic. _Maybe he's right. If she did get out, the next thing she'd worry about would be having someone recognize her. Which means she'd leave the area and double back later looking for me. _She frowned. _But where would she go? The park? Maybe. We've been staying there ever since we came to Republic City, so it would be familiar. But what if she's hurt? Would she go to the hospital, or would she stay in the area, hoping I'd be able to find her and heal her? _

Meira stood a bit straighter at the thought. "I want to look around some more. She might be nearby, waiting for me to find her." _That's what she would do if she was hurt. She always came to me when she hurt herself back home. _She walked along the perimeter of the destroyed building, stepping over mounds of ash and debris while her eyes scanned every corner, every alley, for signs of her sister.

Or signs of her sister's bones.

* * *

><p>By the time Ferron jogged down the streets leading to the fire, the Republic City Fire Department had extinguished the inferno. He arrived to find a burnt-out cinder of a building, littered with a few still-glowing embers. <em>Terrin's going to be pissed that I wandered off, <em>he thought, pausing to survey the damage. He hadn't been to this part of town, though that was true of most of the city, but he could tell this area was richer than any neighborhood in Ba Sing Se. Street lamps dotted the sidewalks, the bulbs functioning perfectly. The sidewalks themselves appeared to be in good repair, sporting only a few tiny cracks where Ba Sing Se would've had whole sections uprooted by now. _That's the problem with living in a city full of earthbenders, _he thought. _Things break so much more easily. _

He sighed, looking again at the burnt building. Red lights flashed from the tops of ambulances, but no sirens pierced the air. Newscasters swarmed the streets, cameras and microphones pointing at reporters and witnesses alike.

_I shouldn't be here, _Ferron thought. _Someone could recognize me. _He started to retreat, then paused as a soot-covered figure slipped out from the alleyway, pushing past him. "Sorry," the girl said, glancing back. Black smudges marred her face, and a fine layer of ash covered her hair. He stared at her a moment, then winced as she doubled over, wheezing.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

The girl staggered several steps, then collapsed on the sidewalk, pressing a hand to her mouth. Her whole body trembled, racked by the coughing fit.

"There are ambulances over this way," he said, taking her hand. Her palms were gritty with ash.

"No!" she yelped, jumping back. "No. I can't go to the hospital. I'm not supposed to be here."

_Not supposed to be here? _He frowned. "You're suffering from smoke inhalation. You need to see a healer."

The girl shook her head. "I _can't_. They'll find out who I am. They'll send me back home."

"Why can't you go home?"

The girl straightened, coughing into her elbow. Her cocoa-colored eyes panned up to his face, glistening under the street lamp. "Can you keep a secret?"

_This can't be good. _"Uh, sure."

She leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper. "I ran away from home with my sister Meira a couple weeks ago and came here. But we _can't _go back yet. We have to stop the war."

Ferron stared at her. "I'm not sure I'm following your logic."

The girl coughed again. "My name is Zelda. My sister and I are the princesses of the Northern Water Tribe."

_Maybe she hit her head. Or maybe she's just crazy__. _He opened his mouth to say as much, then thought better of it. After all, wasn't it equally crazy for the Avatar to flee his homeland to do the same thing? _She said she wanted to stop the war. Maybe she knows __something__. _He leaned forward. "How do you plan to stop the war?"

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing soot across her face. "That's what I was trying to find out." Her voice dropped. "We were holding a meeting in the basement of that restaurant when the police tried to shut us down. We were just _talking—_we hadn't even done anything—so when they told us to get out of there, we argued." She took a breath, eyes straying to the cinders that remained of the restaurant. "Everything just got out of control after that."

"And that's when the restaurant started on fire?"

She nodded. "My sister got out through the window, but I was right in the middle of it all. There was a lot of smoke, but I thought everyone would be okay, so I just kept f-fighting, and—" A coughing fit interrupted her explanation. She swayed back and forth, clutching her abdomen.

Ferron laid a hand on her shoulder, holding her up. "You really need to get to the hospital. I think you're suffering from smoke inhalation."

She shook her head. "N-no. Listen."

He paused, glancing around. Perhaps it was an old habit, or perhaps the realization that they were both, apparently, rather important figures, but talking out in the open seemed careless. _I shouldn't have left the park. Terrin's going to kill me. Or worse, he'll extend tomorrow's earthbending lessons. _A shiver ran down his back even as Zelda started speaking again. "I need to get away from this place, but I can't go to the hospital, and I have to stay somewhat close so that I can look for my sister later on."

"Okay . . ." he said, drawing the word out. "What does that have to do with me?"

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. "I don't have any money to rent an apartment. I need a place to stay."

"I, uh . . ." He glanced around, tugging on a stray lock of hair. _Two options, _he thought. _You could refuse outright, or you could admit that you sleep in a tent. _"Well, see . . ."

"It doesn't have to be a good apartment. I'll sleep on the floor. I just . . ." Her shoulders sank. "I need a place to sleep. And you seem like a nice guy."

Ferron blinked, opening his mouth, then closing it again as the girl's last sentence sunk in. _"Nice guy?" She's known me for five minutes. If I was opportunistic . . . _He shook off the thought, gritting his teeth. There had been plenty of _opportunistic _people in Ba Sing Se. Most of them ended up in prison. _Which raises another problem: who else is she going to run into if I walk away? At least I _know _I'm not going to __take advantage of__ her. But if she finds someone who _would _hurt __her, that's on me. _He sighed, fingertips kneading his forehead. "All right. Fine. But you should know: I don't really have an apartment either. Right now, my friend and I are living in a tent in the park."

Zelda's face brightened. "That's perfect!"

He stared at her for a long moment, then turned, heading toward the park. "All right. Follow me." He started walking. A moment later, Zelda skipped up to his side, hurrying to keep up on her short legs. Occasionally, he glanced down at her. She seemed young to be alone on the streets, though he supposed her sister could've been much older, acting as a maternal figure rather than a sibling. Zelda's cheekbones still carried a childish roundness, though even by his standards, she wasn't chubby. Still, life in Ba Sing Se had accustomed him to seeing girls with emaciated faces. Unless you were an Earth Kingdom noble, you didn't eat well in the dying city. In that respect, Zelda's healthy features reminded him a bit of Freya, and he felt a pang of longing.

_Not the time, _he reminded himself. _Besides, this girl is much younger than Freya. It's creepy to compare them like that. _To distract himself, he spoke. "So, how long have you been in Republic City?"

"A few days. Maybe a week now. Meira usually keeps track." Zelda frowned, but didn't otherwise indicate any worry for her sister. "We were just getting to know some people. Of course, now that Kuang's Cuisine burnt down, we'll have to find a new place to meet. Or new people to meet with."

"I'm sure everyone got out all right," he said quickly, hearing the sudden dejection in her voice.

The girl immediately perked up, as if setting aside her grief for a later moment. "Yes. I was in the middle of the chaos, and I got out. The others are probably okay. Anyway, I'll need to meet up with as many of them as I can—getting accurate information is one of the most important things to do when you're trying to stop a war."

_So she was serious about that. Interesting. _"You seem a little young to be worried about the war."

Her eyebrows slanted down. "Not really. Avatar Aang was only twelve—emotionally, at least—when he woke from suspended animation and fought against the Fire Nation. And most of his friends weren't that much older—Fire Lord Zuko was the oldest, and he didn't join the group until later. Though I guess he was only a prince, then."

"Yeah, but . . . that was two centuries ago. Countries still recruited fourteen-year-olds as soldiers back then."

"Some armies recruit sixteen-year-olds now. Not that I would be joining an army, of course. That would run counter to my goal. But I think I'm mature enough to—"

"You're _sixteen_?" he blurted out.

She looked over, then down at her body. "Hey, just because I'm not _shapely _doesn't mean I'm a kid."

"I didn't—that wasn't what I . . . Oh, crap. That sounded really . . ."

She raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to finish. Instead, he trailed off awkwardly, his face the color of a fire-lily. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. _Great. Now she thinks I'm into fourteen-year-old girls. _"That really wasn't what I was getting at," he said. "You just look young. And . . . short."

"Well, you look like a street lamp."

"A . . . street lamp?"

She grinned. "Yep. You're tall and skinny, and if you tied a lantern to your head, you could stand on the corner and light up the night."

_Tall and skinny, _he thought, remembering how he'd sometimes looked when he'd stood in front of a mirror, every rib showing, eyes hollow, every feature pointy, emaciated. He'd filled out some over the past few years—he'd learned how to pick through trash bins, and once people had discovered he was the Avatar, gifts of food had started trickling in from the richer parts of town—but he still remembered what it was like to be that kid sitting on the edge of the playground, hoping for someone to leave their picnic basket unattended so he could slip in and steal food.

_But this girl doesn't know who I was. She said she was a princess. She's probably never seen starvation, at least not up close. _He glanced over, forcing himself to smile despite the strange feeling in his stomach. Leaving the city he'd grown up in had meant leaving behind most of the people who knew about his living conditions. But spending the past week and a half with Terrin had brought up touchy subjects almost as frequently as living in Ba Sing Se had. Talking to someone who didn't know him, and who therefore couldn't pity him, felt odd. But not bad.

A voice interrupted his musings. "Where the hell _were _you?" Terrin demanded, stalking over toward him.

Ferron shoved away his instinctive panic, sliding between Zelda and Terrin. "Sorry. I noticed a building had caught fire a few streets away, and—"

"You can't just wander off, moron!" Terrin made a frustrated gesture. "Remember the whole reason we're here, and _not _in Ba Sing Se?"

Shame crept in despite his annoyance. He bowed his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't think about it."

For the first time, Terrin leveled a glance at Zelda, his scowl deepening. To Ferron's surprise, the girl only straightened her shoulders and met Terrin's glower. The air hummed with tension, as if they were exchanging a silent argument. After a moment, Terrin let out a breath, calming. "Who's the girl?"

Zelda stepped around him. "I am Zelda Fuyu, Princess of the Northern Water Tribe and descendant of Lady Zora Xiatian of the Fire Nation."

"Oh." Terrin hesitated, then bowed, his back stiff. "I, uh, apologize if I've shown any disrespect."

_I think that's the first time I've ever seen Terrin look scared, _Ferron thought, watching the exchange. Though he had to admit: hearing Zelda's titles did make her seem intimidating. "She needs a place to stay for the night. That's why I brought her here."

Annoyance flickered across the earthbender's face, but rather than yelling, as Ferron had expected, Terrin nodded. "It doesn't look like there will be rain tonight. She can take the tent."

"I'm grateful for your hospitality," Zelda said, bowing. "I will try not to inconvenience you."

Terrin shrugged. "It's no big deal . . . Princess."

Zelda looked away. "Actually, the princess thing is supposed to be a secret. Please, call me Zelda."

"Of course." His eyes flickered to Ferron's face, and he jerked his chin in Zelda's direction.

Ferron floundered for a moment, trying to think of something to say. "Would you . . . uh . . . like a washcloth, or something? You've got ash in your hair." She had ash everywhere, actually, but saying so would've been rude.

Zelda lifted a hand to her face, as if it hadn't occurred to her that escaping a burning building would leave her covered in soot. "That's probably a good idea."

"Let me get a washcloth," Terrin said, hurrying over to the tent. He shuffled around for a few minutes, leaving Ferron to stand awkwardly between the girl he'd met less than half an hour ago and his earthbending teacher. Eventually, he folded his arms behind his back and stared into the distance, like a soldier standing guard over a castle.

Beside him, Zelda giggled. "Why are you standing like that?"

"I'm . . . not really sure." He felt his face heating up. "So . . . you're really a princess, aren't you?"

She grinned. "That's right."

"I guess that means I should apologize for calling you short, huh."

She snickered. "You don't have to apologize for being honest. I mean . . ." Even in the darkness, he could see the blush creeping across her cheeks. "It's true. Even by water tribe standards, I'm short." She shrugged. "Both my parents are normal, and Meira is almost a foot taller than me. Sometimes, I feel out of place when I'm around them. I mean, I'm half-water-tribe, but half-Fire-Nation. My sister trained under the best waterbending teacher in the city, and I'm only just starting to learn firebending. And Meira . . . Meira is the perfect leader. She's as smart as me, but she's so much more like the people of the Northern Water Tribe. No one will question her leadership when our father dies. But sometimes, it feels like I shouldn't be standing next to her. Like I don't belong by her side."

Ferron looked away. He knew what it was like to stand next to someone and not belong. He'd felt that way every time he'd seen or spoken to Freya, even when they'd been young and naïve. He had loved her—he still did—but they'd never been equals. "I think everyone feels that way, sometimes," he finally said, meeting Zelda's gaze. "But maybe in the end, it's not about belonging. Maybe it's about making people want to be near you, even when you don't belong."

Her eyes widened. "You think so?"

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, I guess. Honestly, I don't think I belong anywhere." _A bastard and the Avatar mashed into one body, _he thought. _Where _would _I belong? _"I could be wrong. But I won't know that unless I find somewhere I do belong."

Zelda stepped closer to him, staring out into the distance as if to see what he saw. After a moment, her hand wound around his. "Then I guess we have something in common."

"Yeah," he murmured. "I guess we do."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes:<br>As you may have noticed, I've renamed the story. The new title is _A Song of Earth and Fire. _This is a combination of titles that received a lot of votes in the poll I took a couple weeks back. I liked this style of naming, as the structure of the title actually references a real book series by George R.R. Martin—if you've ever read _A Song of Ice and Fire, _you'll understand my reasoning for the new title. I figured since a lot of my inspiration for the gritty, cynical bits and the epic scope of this story come from that series, it was appropriate to name this story accordingly._

_Anyway, thanks to those of you who have stuck with me despite infrequent updates. I know it's frustrating to see me updating other stories when you're waiting on this one, so having loyal readers really helps me get through this. And this story is finally starting to get some reviews again, so thanks to those of you who commented. I hope to hear from you all soon. Thank you, and happy belated New Year!_


	24. Confessions

Chapter Twenty-Four

"Here," Sora said, setting a tray on the table. "Chamomile."

Meira stared at the tea, numb. She'd wandered around the ruins of Kuang's Cuisine for over an hour, searching for Zelda. Instead, she'd found mounds of soot and debris and watched medical personnel cart people into ambulances. She'd recognized some of the victims. Not many, and none that she'd grown close to, but she'd recognized their faces. Most of them had been unconscious.

Tonight's nightmare made her wonder how people retained hope in the face of loss. How did they manage to believe in a better future when the world around them seemed to be falling apart? She'd read firsthand accounts from people who'd survived Sozin's War, or the anti-bending revolt, or any number of other hardships, like poverty or starvation. Yet the fact that their accounts had remained after they'd died implied that they'd had enough hope to record their thoughts for the people who lived after them. So why couldn't she manage even a spark of hope when she considered her odds of finding Zelda alive?

Sora sat beside her, staring grimly at the untouched tea tray as he folded his arms across his lap. They sat in silence for a few moments before he spoke. "We'll find her. You must believe that."

Her eyes started to sting. She blinked, freeing the tears so they could roll down her cheeks.

Sora scooted closer to her, until she could feel the warmth coming off his skin. She turned, pressing her face into his shoulder as she held back the sobs building in her throat. His arms wound around her torso, his hand tracing circles over her back. Her chest heaved, and she barely managed to suppress the next sob. Her nails dug into his shirt. "What if we don't find her?" Her voice quavered.

"We will."

"How do you know?"

He hesitated an instant too long. "I just know."

She pulled back. "You don't believe she's alive."

"That's not it."

Her lungs seemed to convulse. She stood, dragging a hand across her face. "Stop comforting me and tell me what you really think."

His eyes narrowed, but his voice was tranquil. "I think Zelda is a clever, naturally-talented firebender. She acts headstrong because she believes everything she says, but she's not so stubborn that she'd have kept fighting while the building collapsed around her. I think she got out, and I think she's out there, either searching for you or waiting to be found." He paused, bowing his head. "I also think Republic City is no place for a girl her age to wander at night."

She heard the implications in his words, then collapsed onto the couch, letting out a shaky breath. "You know, it's my fault she's in this city to begin with. I'm the one who wanted to run away from home."

His head snapped up, but he said nothing.

Meira continued. "We'd just had a Peace Celebration—we always hold them in early Spring, since the Festival of Daylight takes up most of the summer. Having two big celebrations would only make things more hectic. Anyway, the start of Spring meant I'd survived my eighteenth winter—that used to be a big deal, back when the mortality rate was higher. And my father decided it was time to marry me off."

Beside her, Sora stiffened. _Interesting, _she thought, distracted. _Maybe Mad Lin was right. Maybe Sora _does _like me that way. _Heat crept into her cheeks, and she kept her eyes on the tea tray as she quickly recounted the wretched suitors who'd courted her that night. She remembered them all, and not for positive reasons. More than anything, she remembered the sense of betrayal she'd felt. Her father had invited those men, hoping one would be fit to marry her, and every single one of them had been a miserable excuse for a suitor. There had been no romance, no connection. Several of them had disgusted her. Though she knew her father would've never paired her with someone so wretched, his selection had suggested that he'd put little time into finding appropriate candidates.

She explained how she'd left the North Pole that night on a block of ice with her sister, then trailed off, once again reminded of that fact that whatever had happened to Zelda tonight had been her fault.

"The firebenders sounded particularly bad," Sora said after she finished.

She looked up. "Huh?"

"The firebenders who courted you. They sounded obnoxious."

"Oh. They were." She frowned, feeling her face heat up again. During the Peace Celebration, she'd practically discarded the idea of getting into a relationship at all. Now, she wavered. Sora was nothing like the men her father had chosen for her. He was intelligent, witty, and handsome. He'd comforted her even when she'd dissolved into tears. He was the kind of person she could see falling in love with.

"Meira . . . I, um . . ."

She leaned forward. "Yes?"

"I should probably tell you . . . I mean, it's not an issue, or anything, but I guess you ought to know more about me, since—" He broke off, head snapping up as the front door swung open. Meira turned, startled, and saw a girl with brown hair standing in the doorway.

"Hey, Sora, I was just talking to this guy from my school and—" She broke off, cocking her head to the side. "Princess Meira?"

Her mind blanked out for a few moments as the voice registered with her. "You're . . . Kotono, right?"

Kotono blinked, managing to look both pleased and alarmed. "I didn't expect you to remember me. Um . . . hi."

Sora glanced between them, his expression puzzled. "Wait. Kotono, when did _you_ meet _Meira_?"

"I met her in the park while I was teaching Zelda about firebending. Oh, Zelda's her sister, by the way."

"I know," he said as Meira flinched. "We've been looking for Zelda all night. Have you seen her?"

Kotono's eyebrows shot into her hairline. "No. Is she missing?"

"She was in Kuang's Cuisine when it started on fire."

"Kuang's Cuisine is on _fire_?"

"It was. Now it's a pile of ash."

"Oh." Kotono deflated. "But they had the best vegetable soup in the city."

Meira glanced between the two, still confused. "So how do you two know each other, then?" The girl looked too young to have been one of Sora's ex-girlfriends.

"Kotono's my sister."

"Your . . . sister?"

He nodded.

Meira looked back at the girl. Though they shared the same dark-brown hair, she had trouble reconciling Sora's confident demeanor with his sister's shyness. She remembered now how the girl had overreacted when she'd realized she'd been talking to a princess, and it didn't match up with her brother's calm evaluation of her position. _It's as if they were raised apart, _she thought.

"Meira's going to be staying with us for a couple days," Sora said, looking at Kotono. Then his eyes flickered back to her. "I mean, unless you planned on staying somewhere else."

Heat rose to her cheeks, but she shook her head. "No. I'd like to stay here."

"But what about Zelda?" Kotono asked, edging forward several steps. A film of tears covered her eyes. "What if she's hurt?"

Sora sighed. "We're dealing with it. Kotono . . . I'm going to tell Meira about us."

_Tell me what? _She glanced between the pair, suddenly uneasy. "What do you mean?"

"Sora, you _can't_." Kotono's eyes locked with her brother's, the tears drying almost instantly. "That's our rule. We don't tell anybody who we are."

"I'm still the older brother," he said. "I make the decisions."

"What is going on?" Meira demanded.

The firebenders jumped guiltily, averting their eyes. Sora looked down on his feet, his air of confidence lapsing as he chewed on his lower lip. After a long moment, he spoke. "Meira, how much do you know of Fire Nation nobility?"

She blinked. "Not much. My aunt Alasane married Fire Lord Kaso shortly after I was born." _And now my cousin __Taemin is Fire Lady, _she thought, face falling a bit as she remembered the news reports about the attack in the Fire Nation Capital. "Taemin will be thirteen this summer."

"You were never required to memorize the noble houses in the other nations?"

She shook her head. "No. My father didn't expect me to venture out into the world until I had married and produced heirs. It wasn't something they thought I needed to know."

Sora stayed quiet for a moment, apparently gathering his thoughts. "The first night I met you, I spoke of how the tension between the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom had started. How much of that conversation do you remember?"

She closed her eyes, calling it back. "You said that King Haran started hating the Fire Nation after his daughter's future husband slaughtered her. And that man wasn't brought to trial because of his noble position and a lack of evidence."

"That man's name was Gin Natsume. He was my father."

Meira froze, heart quickening even as confusion clouded her mind. "Your . . . But you said this only happened a little over a decade ago. How . . ."

"My biological mother died after she gave birth to Kotono," Sora said, not looking at his sister. "That left my father free to pursue other . . . _matches_." His lips twisted around the word, as if he found it distasteful. "His lineage would have allowed him to have his pick of any woman he wanted, save perhaps for the Fire Lady herself. And when he met Lady Sil, the unmarried princess of the Earth Kingdom, he . . . It was like he was looking at Mom again. And yes, he was nearly twice her age, but that hardly mattered. King Haran wanted Lady Sil to start producing heirs as soon as possible, and my father had already proven he was capable in that area, so the king approved the marriage. Fire Lord Kaso also backed my father. And then, the night before the wedding, one of the servants found Lady Sil's body, burned to ashes in the suite she'd planned to use for their honeymoon."

"That's awful," Meira whispered. It wasn't until Sora looked up that she realized she'd spoken aloud.

"The next few months hosted a lot of legal battles," Sora continued. "My father hung himself before he could be taken to trial. We thought he'd been holding himself together. We thought he would prove himself innocent during the trial. By killing himself, he basically admitted to his guilt. Kotono and I left the next day."

The bespectacled girl nodded, sitting down on the floor with her legs crossed. "We moved around a lot for a time," she said, her voice flat. All the hesitation and uncertainty Meira had come to expect in her speech vanished. "At first, we didn't hide our identities. We didn't think anyone would know our names outside the Fire Nation. But we were wrong. That's why we keep it secret." Her eyes flickered to Sora's face for a moment, a silent accusation hovering in the air between them. "We don't like it when people judge us for that."

Sora folded his hands in his lap, finally meeting her eyes. Meira inhaled, steadying herself against the instinctive unease she felt knowing she was standing in the same room as the son of an alleged murderer. "But you're not like him," she said. Her voice steadied. "You'd never do something like that."

"See, I never thought my father could be a murderer. It still seems absurd—he never harmed us when we were growing up. And when he looked at Lady Sil, I really thought he was falling in love again." He let out a bitter bark of laughter. "I remember being upset because he loved someone besides Mom. I was _jealous _of her because I thought she'd be taking his attention away from us. We were young, then. Foolish." His voice softened. "My father wasn't a murderer. People think he was, but he wasn't. He couldn't have been. And I'm not in denial—if you'd ever met him, you'd know he was _incapable _of murder. But people needed someone to blame and the Fire Nation needed a scapegoat to appease King Haran."

"But it didn't work, did it?" Meira said. "The king still blamed the Fire Nation. Blamed them enough to start a war."

Sora nodded. "A war I intend to stop."

Meira looked down. "Zelda wanted the same thing." _And now she's gone. _

"So," Sora said after a moment. For once, there was no humor on his face. "What do you think of me now, knowing that I've kept this from you?"

She paused, considering that. What _did _she think of him? An hour ago, that question would've been simple enough to answer. She'd considered him witty, handsome, practical. But now she had trouble controlling the pity swelling in her chest as she wondered how awful it must have been for him, moving from place to place and never being able to escape the shame. And, though it pained her to admit it, a tiny piece of her feared that connection to a murderer, whether it had been genuine or not.

Yet she trusted him. Perhaps it was pity, or naivety, but she trusted him. She approached, moving slowly so as not to alarm him. She sat down beside him, wringing her hands together for several seconds before slipping one of them around his palm. His head snapped up, eyes zeroing in on her face. "You didn't have to tell me all that," she said. "But I'm glad you did."

"You're not afraid?"

She shook her head, not trusting her voice while that shard of fear still lingered in her heart. But with every moment she held his hand, that piece became less potent. She would trust him, she decided. She already relied on him enough as it was.

* * *

><p><em>He cornered me again today, <em>Freya wrote, glaring at her notebook as her pen streaked across the paper.

_He makes it seem so casual, like it's a coincidence. Today, I visited a restaurant called The Fire Lily—authentic Fire Nation food, available in the Earth Kingdom's most flourishing city. Three blocks from the house, I expected it to be a safe distance from him. Or maybe I shouldn't call it "safe." After all, Irruk hasn't caused me any harm._

_But after today, I don't feel safe at all. _

She paused, lifted her pen from the paper for a moment. That was a good line, she thought, circling it and making a note in the margins. Her teachers had always praised her writing, and she'd been writing journals on-and-off since she'd turned seven. Since writing was an art, her parents had been thrilled to see her become skilled at it—being artsy attracted good husbands, according to her mother. Regardless of the cause, she'd developed an ear for it. She heard the rhythm in words, heard when the sentences didn't quite work, heard when the words whispered with all their hidden meanings without ever having to state their purpose.

Maybe she'd make a good reporter someday. She liked the image of it, the dogged pursuit of a story. She liked that cliche—that in-your-face, won't-take-no-for-an-answer stereotype that people assigned to reporters and journalists. She'd collect the information, write her own stories, become someone who didn't need a family title to draw attention to herself. Or maybe not a reporter. Maybe an author. A bestselling author.

_Focus, _she told herself. _You'll never sell a book if you don't write. _

Freya read over what she'd written, then continued, knowing the words would be sharper, cleaner, more detailed, if she wrote everything down now.

_I'd been sitting down for ten minutes when he came in. I had my notebook with me, but I hadn't opened it yet. Even with everyone keeping their voices down, the buzz of conversation made it hard to focus, and I just wanted some time out of the house. I used to go out every day in Ba Sing Se, practicing my bending or meeting with friends._

She paused, then crossed out that last sentence. Too off-topic. It made her look sloppy. Then she continued. _My waiter had just brought over a cup of ginseng tea—the real stuff, not the kind you pour into a tea-maker—when Irruk walked in. __Alone. Naturally. I haven't seen him with anybody outside my family since he took us in. No friends, no family, no visitors. He rarely leaves the house. It's like he doesn't have a life outside of his property. And then suddenly, he's strutting into The Fire Lily, hands in his pockets, and he looks right at me. _

Again, she hesitated, puzzling over the shifts in tense. Changing tense in the middle of a piece broke one of the unbreakable rules of writing. She'd started the story in past tense. She couldn't switch now. But she kind of liked how it sounded, so she kept going. _He smiled at me. It's weird because, even though he's got perfect teeth, I could almost see the maggots in his smile. He walked over to my booth and sat across from me, folding his hands on the table. And he didn't say anything. For almost a minute, he didn't say a word. And then he reached forward and ran his index finger along the side of my teacup and said, "This tea must be lovely. But I bet I can do better."_

_ Who says something like that? What kind of_

A knock on her bedroom door forced her to abandon her journal mid-sentence. Quickly, she closed her notebook and shoved it under her desk. "Who is it?" she called.

"It's me, darling," her mother said through the door. "Irruk has informed me he will be attending a gala in the First Ring three days from now, and he's requested that we all join him."

_Slimy bastard, _she thought, clearing her throat as if to dislodge the lump of disgust that had risen there. "That's quite all right. I am content to stay here."

"But he _insists_." Uninvited, her mother opened the door and stepped inside. She wore a sleek, emerald-green dress that clung to her waist and thighs, but flared outward around her hands and feet. A necklace made of gold rings hung from her throat, gleaming under the light fixtures. Freya didn't recognize it.

"Where did you get that?"

"This?" Her mother touched one of the necklace's rings. "Oh, Master Irruk gave this to me this afternoon. Such a fine man, giving unexpected gifts."

_No wonder she let him talk her into moving here, _Freya thought, dismayed. _He's a master manipulator. _

"Anyway," her mother went on, "he already secured enough invitations for all of us, so I expect you to come. We're not known in New Haran—we must try to make as many public appearances as possible from now on."

"I'm sure you and Father are perfectly capable of exposing us to the public," she said, hoping flattery would work better than refusal. "We were the most influential family in Ba Sing Se, thanks to you two."

"But, Freya, dear, you _must_ mingle with high society if you ever want to be part of them. And there will be many eligible men eager to dance with you at the gala. We may even uncover some potential suitors." Her voice rose in pitch as she pondered that.

Hopes flattened, Freya resorted to her most desperate tactic: begging. "Please, mother, send me back to Ba Sing Se. I was so much happier there. I had friends."

Her mother's smile faltered. But it wasn't pity in her eyes; it was disapproval. "If you're hoping to go gallivanting off with that street rat, I suggest you set that notion aside this instant. Avatar or not, that boy grew up with sticky fingers and muddy shoes. He'd never make a good match for you."

"I'm not looking for a _match_! If I wanted someone to court me, I would go to every gala I could make time for. I would wander around the First and Second Rings, holding a parasol and wearing my best dresses. But I _don't_ want that." _I want Ferron, _she realized, sucking in a sharp breath. _I want to hear his voice. I want to see him look at me like I'm the most beautiful woman in the world. I want him to hold my hand like he did that day in Ba Sing Se before I had to leave. _"I want to go home," she whispered, voice shaking. "I just want to go home."

Her mother's lip quirked to one side. After a brief hesitation, she stepped forward, her silk-laden arms wrapping around Freya's shoulders in an awkward embrace. "There, there. No reason to cry. I won't force you to go to the gala, but I know Irruk would appreciate it if you did. He worked so hard to get those invitations."

She shook her head and slid out of the embrace, fighting the surge of guilt making her eyes water. "I don't want to go. Please tell him to give the invitation to someone who does."

Frowning, her mother sighed. "Very well. But you're missing a grand opportunity."

_I don't care, _she thought, turning back to her desk. After a moment, she heard the door open and shut as her mother departed. Once she was satisfied that her mother wouldn't double back, she slid the notebook out from beneath her desk and opened it to a new page. And if her tears smeared the ink, well, she'd revise the whole thing later anyway.

* * *

><p>"Has there been any progress in the investigation?" Yumao asked, addressing the detective in charge of investigating the assassination attempt.<p>

The mustached man shifted his considerable weight from foot to foot, scratching the back of his head. "No appreciable progress as of yet, Prince Yumao, but our task force is pursuing all possible leads. We can provide you with a list of people we've interviewed, if you wish."

"No." He turned away, resting one hand against the wall to steady himself. He was on that list, after all. Everybody who'd attended the gala would be on it soon. "You're dismissed."

As the officer hurried out of the throne room, King Haran's voice resonated in the air. "I told you there was no point in interviewing the police over this matter."

Yumao winced at the disapproval in that voice, glad his father wouldn't be able to see him flinch from where he sat. "I only wished to ensure every possible avenue was being investigated. Whoever tried to assassinate Yoru raised their hand against the royal family."

"Agreed," the king said simply. "And when they are found, they will be executed. But it is unseemly to show worry in front of your subjects—they will think you weak."

"I'm sorry, Father."

He heard fabric rustling together and looked over to see King Haran rising from his throne. The man folded his arms behind his back, approaching the row of portraits hanging from the wall. Each had been hand-painted, as they had been for centuries. Every man who'd ever sat on the throne had been immortalized in those frames, and at the center of it all, the current royal family—himself, Yoru, his father, and Sil, though she'd died long ago—dominated the wall, framed in pure gold.

"It's been ten years since your sister died," his father said. If he hadn't known the man so well, Yumao wouldn't have heard the wisp of anger under his regal tone._ Ten years, _he thought. _He still hasn't taken her portrait down._ "How much do you remember of her?"

"Enough. I was thirteen when she . . . passed."

"When she was murdered," the king corrected.

Yumao managed to hide his wince.

"When you marry and have children, you will understand what it was like for me when she was killed. The mere _thought _that anyone would harm one of your children is enough to plunge you into a living nightmare. If you think I am being lax in pursuing your brother's poisoner, you are mistaken."

He tensed. "I meant no offense, Father."

The man lifted a wrinkled hand, still looking at the portraits. "Peace, Yumao. Your worry makes me wonder how you see me. I won't deny that I have been . . . harsh in my discipline of you, particularly after I found you whoring around in the middle of the city. But you are my son. My blood. My legacy. People will target your brother, and perhaps young Omashu as well. If luck works against us, this war may extinguish our whole family."

"I understand."

"What I ask of you now will not leave this room. Do you understand?"

He hesitated. His father _never _entrusted him with sensitive information—hadn't since he'd found him asleep in a brothel in the Third Ring. _Has he changed his mind? _Yumao wondered. _Could I become valuable to him again? _"I understand. What do you ask of me?"

"If the royal family ever finds themselves in a position in which you, or your children, if you have any by then, are the only heirs left to take the throne, I want you to go back to the brothels and sow as many royal bastards as you can possibly create and claim."

His eyes opened wide. "Father, I . . ."

"Tell me, Yumao, did you sire any children during your _vacation_ in the Third Ring? Any that should be hidden and kept safe?"

"No. I was always careful to avoid that."_ You would never have taken a bastard into this palace back then, _he thought. _Royal or not._

His father said nothing for a long moment, but tapped his cane against the stone floor, as if impatient. "I cannot say whether I'm pleased or worried by that."

"I . . . apologize," Yumao said, knowing that apologizing was usually the wisest course with his father.

"The royal line cannot die with us. The war was inevitable, but ill-timed."

_But you _started_ the war, _Yumao thought, but did not say.

His father paced in front of the family portraits, his gold eyes distant. "If I die, and if Yoru and Omashu die afterward, our lineage will come to rest on your shoulders. And if you die after that, then there will need to be children—legitimate or not—to take your place so there will not be a power vacuum."

"And if that course of action should never become necessary?"

King Haran's lips stretched into a papery smile. "Then your loving bride-to-be will bear many healthy, legitimate heirs. Do try to produce at least one child in your marriage," he added before Yumao could respond. "We don't want any unfortunate rumors flying around regarding our family's virility."

Yumao bowed his head, blushing. "Yes, Father. I understand completely."


	25. Family, Duty, Honor

_Author's Notes:_

_Hey, everybody. Just writing to let you know that this fic is definitely still in-progress. Inspiration has not been forthcoming lately, and I've been busy with other projects, but I know there are some people out there who have been waiting for this chapter, and I want to apologize for the long period between updates. Unfortunately, this fic tends to get shuffled aside more than my other ones, which is why the updates are so slow. Hopefully, things will speed up in the future, but until then, updates will remain sporadic (although I do have a good chunk of the next chapter written up already. At least, I think it's part of the next chapter. It's a section I've been wanting to write for a while now, anyway). Thanks everyone for sticking with me through the rough patches, and special thanks to my reviewers. It was actually a couple new reviews that prompted me to sit down and write this chapter. I hope you all enjoy it.__  
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><p>Chapter Twenty-Five<p>

The clock had just struck three when Sora heard a knock on the door. He lifted his head, blinking to dispel the blur of sleep from his eyes. On the other end of the couch, Kotono stirred. "What time is it?"

"Late. Or early. Go back to sleep."

Kotono groaned and laid her head on the armrest, closing her eyes. Sora stood, noting with some surprise that he'd fallen asleep in his day clothes, and started for the door. He paused outside his bedroom, peering through the crack to see Meira sprawled across his bed, unmoving.

The knock came again, more insistent. With a sigh, he opened the front door.

Two men dressed in green robes stood outside his apartment, hands concealed by loose sleeves. They wore cone-shaped hats that left their faces in shadow. _The New Dai Li, _he realized, slipping into the hallway and closing the door behind him. _Why are they in Republic City? This is supposed to be neutral ground._

"We apologize for disturbing you at this hour," said the taller of the two. "But we have orders to investigate the area."

"For what purpose?" Sora demanded, then repressed a wince at his tone. It rang with command, defiance. It made him sound like the Fire Nation nobleman he'd been raised to become.

"We're looking for a woman by the name of Meira Fuyu."

Sora kept his face blank. "I don't know anyone by that name."

"You may know her as the elder princess of the Northern Water Tribe."

He shrugged. "I don't keep up with politics," he lied.

The agents exchanged glances. Then, without any verbal communication, the shorter one nodded and produced a photo. "She may be using an alias. Please, take a look at this photo and tell us if you recognize her. Even if you've only seen her in passing, your information is very valuable to the royal family."

_So they're here on the king's business. _He frowned, becoming even more determined to fool them. He wanted no part of this war, and he certainly had no desire to help the Earth Kingdom so soon after they'd bombed his people. He pinched the offered picture between his thumb and forefinger, pretending to study it. It was undeniably a picture of Meira. From the shorter hair and rounded features, he judged it to be at least two years old. _She's gotten more beautiful with age, _he thought. _Considerably so._

After a few seconds, he returned the picture. "I don't recognize her. Is she in some sort of trouble?"

"She is to be wed to the prince of the Earth Kingdom. We were sent to retrieve her."

His heart leapt as if he'd flung himself off a cliff. In his shock, he forgot to censor himself. "That's impossible. The Earth Prince is already _married_."

The taller agent raised an eyebrow. "She is engaged to the unattached Prince Yumao, not Prince Yoru." His green eyes sharpened. "It is not something for ordinary citizens to concern themselves with."

_What would you say if you knew who I was? _he wondered, forcing his muscles to relax. Meira had told him about her wretched suitors—how could she be engaged?

"I thought you said you had no interest in politics," the shorter man noted. "Prince Yoru's wedding was a rather private affair. Tell me, how would you remember such a detail?"

_Damn it. _His fingers curled and uncurled as he tried to think of an excuse. _Damn it all. I've been out of politics for too long. I'm losing my touch. _"I must have heard it on the news at some point."

"It was only broadcast in New Haran. Everywhere else, it was printed in newspapers."

"Then I must have read it in the newspaper," he said, forcing his voice to remain level. "Or maybe I heard it on the streets or at a tavern. You can't expect me to recall where I learned every irrelevant scrap of information bouncing around in my head."

The tall agent narrowed his eyes. "No," he said. "I suppose we can't."

"And I do not take kindly to strangers interrogating me on my doorstep hours before sunrise. Whatever you're hoping to find here, you won't have any assistance from me."

For a moment, the Dai Li agents said nothing. Then, the taller one bowed his head. "We apologize for inconveniencing you. Thank you for your time." He raised his head, eyes glinting with suspicion even as he turned away. Sora stood, unmoving, for a few seconds, then retreated back into his apartment. He stopped in the entryway, waiting for an indication that the agents were out of earshot before turning the deadbolt and fastening the chain lock.

On the couch, his sister raised her head. "Who was it?"

Sora hesitated. "No one important."

He had to give Kotono credit—she heard the lie in his voice and sat up. "Someone we know?"

"No. It's nothing we can fix right now." _It's nothing that directly involves us anyway. _

His sister studied him, crossing her arms. "Is it about Meira?"

_No point in lying about that, _he thought. _Girl's too perceptive for her own good._ "Yes. Don't worry. I'll take care of it."

Kotono's eyes narrowed. "Are we going to get in trouble for hiding her here?"

"Only if we get caught. Listen." He crouched next to the sofa, meeting Kotono's eyes. "I promise that if it comes down to our safety or hers, I'll take care of us first. But I'm not going to push a princess out on the streets unless I have to, got it?"

Kotono bit her lip, crossing her eyes slightly as if to compensate for the absence of her glasses. He wondered if it helped. After almost a minute, she spoke. "You can't always be the good guy, Sora. Sometimes it's smarter to run."

He looked down. _Is that what I've taught her? _he wondered. _That running away is the solution to all of life's problems? _He didn't like the idea, but it was plausible. They'd fled the Fire Nation after their father had been accused of murdering the Earth Princess, and though it hadn't been easy, they'd escaped the censure and distrust of those who recognized them. Still . . . "If you never try to be the good guy, there's no point in trying to run," he told her.

"Sora—"

"I won't do anything that will put us in danger. You just have to trust me on that."

The corner of her lip twitched. She leaned back into the cushions. "All right. I believe you."

"Good. Now go to sleep." He ruffled her hair, eyes flickering to his bedroom. Meira hadn't moved at all, too deeply asleep to be awakened by their visitors. _Maybe you can't always be the good guy, _he thought, _but you can always try._

* * *

><p><em>Half the city smolders, and they leave a twelve-year-old girl in charge of the entire nation. <em>General Shaio looked down at the Fire Nation Capital, frowning._ How foolish are these people? _

Puzzled, he gestured for one of his subordinates. The man—Shaio hadn't bothered to learn his name—hurried over and stood at attention, waiting for orders. Shaio paused, staring at a patch of burning rubble near the edge of the island, then met the soldier's eyes. "You are aware that I sent one of the other soldiers into the palace a few days ago, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tell me: what do you think of his prolonged absence?"

"It is likely he was captured and imprisoned, sir."

"That is your honest opinion?"

"Yes, sir."

_He's probably right, _Shaio thought. _That, or the boy's been executed for espionage. _He smiled thinly at the thought. Yuuto had been a useful game piece for him. True, he'd failed to poison the new Fire Lady, but what could you expect from a soldier so green? The boy had been working in the engineering department, anyway. It wasn't as if he'd mattered. No one outside his family would even miss him once Shaio declared him a traitor.

_Pity I chose such a level-headed boy to use as a scapegoat, _he thought. _But now I can return to the Earth Kingdom with a valid reason for failure and move on to a real project. _He smiled a bit at the thought. He hadn't particularly liked the idea of killing a child, Fire Lady or not. Besides, what harm could a little girl do? It was probably better for her to remain on the throne as long as the war went on, lest she be replaced by a more competent leader after her death. _Really, King Haran should be glad the girl lives. It gives him an opportunity. __  
><em>

"That's all I needed from you." Shaio waved the soldier away, pleased by the man's subservience. After a moment, he strolled over to the table in the center of the room. A transparent map of the world stretched across the glass, complete with the names of all the major ports, cities, and military bases. On the map, the Fire Nation seemed like a fine country—countless volcanic islands spotted the sea around the mainland, all set in a lovely tropical climate. When the Earth Kingdom conquered it, he'd find an island to live on. True, the air would be humid and sticky, but everything else about the weather was quite agreeable.

_Best to focus on more immediate goals, _he decided after a moment. He glanced at his lieutenant, smiling as the man came to attention. "Have the pilot drop a few more bombs on the Capital, right around the palace," he said. He didn't want King Haran to think he'd made no effort to follow orders_. _ "Tell him as soon as he does, we'll return to the Earth Kingdom."

"Yes, sir." His lieutenant marched to the pilot's compartment, moving quickly without looking hurried. _They trained him well, considering the limited time they had. _

One of the servants approached him, bowing when he looked in her direction. "Would you like some tea, General?"

Shaio grinned. "Ginseng," he ordered. "And don't let it steep too long this time."

"As you wish, sir."

* * *

><p>The sheets were cold.<p>

Meira surfaced from her slumber, shying away from the light streaming through the window. Once, waking up to an empty bed wouldn't have upset her. Now, it only reminded her that Zelda was gone, either wandering some dangerous street or burned to ashes.

Reluctantly, Meira sat up, smoothing out her clothes. She hadn't had anything to change into last night—she'd left all her belongings in the park when she'd left for Kuang's cuisine, and she hadn't had the time or the energy to retrieve them. _By now, the city scavengers will have taken everything I left behind. _

The thought disturbed her. Not because the idea of strangers pawing through her things made her nervous, but because the thought itself seemed far more cynical than anything she'd have thought about even a few weeks ago. _To think I used to be so concerned with my studies, _she thought. _None of it has done me any good out in the real world. _

"Hey."

Her face burned red as she spun toward the voice. Sora stood in the doorway, holding a bowl of rice and a plate of steamed vegetables. "Good morning," she said.

"Morning. Here." He handed her the bowl. "I was going to head out and pick up some dumplings, but I thought you might be hungry when you woke up, so . . ."

"Thank you." She took the rice and sat on the edge of the bed. When Sora didn't move from the doorway, she stood up again. "I'm sorry. This is your room. I should let you change."

He shrugged. "No, it's all right. I can change in the bathroom." He walked over to the dresser and pulled out a fresh outfit. "Kotono's out buying some new clothes for you. She should be back soon."

Her eyebrows shot into her hairline. "That's . . . very kind of her." She hesitated, wishing she could say that the generosity hadn't been necessary. Yet she had no clean clothes and no money to buy them. In a very real sense, she was depending on Sora and Kotono for everything.

"Is there anything else you need?" Sora asked. "I'm planning on going out anyway, so I can pick up whatever you want."

She shook her head. "No, no . . . You don't need to go to so much trouble just for me."

He looked up, his green eyes catching the light from the window. His thumb traced the folded-up shirt in his hands. "It's no trouble."

_Then why do you look so uneasy? _"If you want, I can take the couch. I shouldn't have stolen your bed to begin with."

He shook his head. "It's fine. Honestly."

Hesitantly, she walked over to him and laid a hand on his arm. "Is something wrong? You look . . . worried."

He stepped back, shying away from her touch. "It's not a big deal."

She waited. When he didn't continue, she prompted him. "Will you tell me?"

His eyes flickered to her face, then away. "Some people came to the door asking about you while you were sleeping."

She stiffened. "Who?"

"I didn't ask for their names. Two Dai-Li agents, here on the Earth King's business."

Her eyebrows pulled together. _What business? _

Sora's eyes rested on her face. "You didn't know they were looking for you, did you?"

"No. The Northern Water Tribe is politically neutral. I don't see why anyone from the Earth Kingdom would bother looking for _me_."

His eyes narrowed as he studied her. "You really can't think of a reason? At all?"

She shook her head.

Sora let out a breath, shoulders slumping. "I guess that means you don't know yet." He walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down, folding his arms atop his knees.

"Don't know _what_?"

"You're engaged to the Earth Prince."

A bark of laughter escaped her throat before she could control it. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." She pressed her hand to her lips to stifle the giggles. "Honestly, I love my father, but he knows nothing about finding good suitors. There's no way he'd be able to marry me off to a _prince_." She inhaled, regaining control of herself. "There must have been some mistake."

Sora said nothing. After a moment, he set his clean clothes aside and met her eyes. "There's no mistake. That's what they said."

"You must have misunderstood."

"I understood perfectly," he snapped. She blinked, her train of thought derailed by his tone. "I even asked for clarification. They said that you, Princess Meira, were engaged to Prince Yumao of the Earth Kingdom. They'd been sent here to look for you. There's no mistake."

Her arms fell to her side. "I . . . That's . . ."

Sora's eyes softened. "You really didn't know?"

Struck dumb, she could only shake her head.

"It must have happened after you left," he said, turning to face the dresser. "Your parents must have set up the match, hoping they'd be able to gain favor and avoid getting blasted when the war heated up."

"Why would the Earth King allow his son to marry _me_?" she asked. _I'm not that important. I'm just some distant princess living in the North Pole. I have no political power in this war. _

"Why _wouldn't _the Earth King allow his son to marry you?" Sora threw his hands in the air. "You're poised, polite, kind, regal . . . And you're beautiful. Most noblemen would want to marry you the moment they saw your picture."

She stared at him, pulse pounding in her throat. She could feel her eyes glazing over. _Sora thinks I'm beautiful. _

He glanced back at her, grimacing. His cheeks burned red. "Not that I would marry anyone based only on a picture, of course. I'd get to know them first. Although, if I'd only seen your picture, the idea of marriage might have crossed my mind. Fleetingly."

"You really think that highly of me?"

He folded his arms behind his back, staring at the wall behind her. His blush deepened. "Anyone who met you would think highly of you, Meira. Myself included."

Meira edged forward, wringing her hands. "Does that mean you . . . _like _me?" She raised an eyebrow as his eyes widened, then watched him shift toward her.

"I . . . I might say that," he admitted. Her heart jumped as if he'd sent a bolt of lightning through it. Slowly, she raised one hand, brushing her fingertips across his collarbone. He sucked in a sharp breath, body stiffening under her touch. "Princess, I—"

"Don't," she said, stepping forward and nudging him closer to the dresser. "Don't use my title to put distance between us. I hate when people do that."

Hesitantly, Sora nodded. "Meira . . . I'm not sure this is a good idea."

_Neither am I, _she thought, taking another step toward him. It was like waterbending—without using any real force, she directed him backward, positioning herself in a place where she could strike more effectively. _Except this isn't waterbending, _she thought, her hand drifting down his chest. _This is something else entirely. _

"I don't want to marry the Earth Prince." She moved her other hand to cup his face. "There's someone else I want to be with."

Sora swallowed thickly, averting his eyes. "We can't. Even if we weren't at war, my family name is tarnished. No one would ever approve of us being together. I'm not a good match for you." But he didn't pull back.

"I don't care." She leaned forward, heart leaping when he matched the movement. Their lips met, as if by accident, and flowed together like converging streams of lava. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her deeper into the fire, and he whispered her name like a prayer. She inhaled, drawing in the heat, the desire, until she melted into him, limbs becoming weak. "Sora . . ."

He drew her closer, giving her just enough room to breathe. His fingers curled around the fabric of her shirt. "Yes?"

"I really like you."

"I really like you, too." He framed her face with his hands, stepping back. "But we can't be together."

The words made her stomach pinch up with nerves. "Why not?"

"You know why."

Her eyebrows slanted down. Her arms fell to her sides. "No. I don't think I do."

"You're a princess."

"And you're a nobleman. I could convince my father to approve the relationship."

He took her hands in his, squeezing them gently. "You're engaged. No matter how much you object, you cannot deny that the Earth Prince is a fine match, in wealth and power, if not in character. Your people would benefit greatly from a royal marriage."

"So this is about my duty to my people," she summarized bitterly.

"This is about your duty to yourself."

"How so?" she demanded, eyes stinging with tears. "Because I have always been the dutiful daughter? Because I have to have a _husband _to be an effective leader? I'm eighteen. My duty to myself should be to have my freedom and enjoy life."

He nodded. "And you have a right to that. But Meira . . . Will you be able to live with that choice? Knowing that refusing the Earth King means giving away your family's chance of prosperity? Knowing it means that the Earth Kingdom could wipe them off the face of the earth for the slight?"

She looked away.

Sora sighed. "We can't be together, Meira. You know we can't."

"What if the prince is a tyrant?" she demanded, the tears slipping free of her eyes. "What if he's irresponsible, or cold, or cruel? What if he forces me to crawl into his bed every night like some prostitute?"

"You shouldn't worry. Tyrant or not, the prince would not risk your father's ire. Not with the Earth Kingdom _and _the Fire Nation vying for an alliance with the water tribes."

"I fled the North Pole so I wouldn't have to get married. What point will I have made if I give myself to the Earth Kingdom for political gain?"

"You won't make any point if your people are blown to bits!" Sora threw his hands in the air, releasing a shower of sparks. Startled, Meira stumbled backward, collapsing onto the bed. "The Earth Kingdom bombed every major city and port in the Fire Nation a few days ago. _My _people are dying, Meira, and I can do nothing to save them. You have a chance to make sure the same thing doesn't happen to your tribe." He exhaled slowly, heat pouring off his body in waves. "I like you, Meira. If the Earth King hadn't attacked, I'd have gladly protested the marriage. But the whole world is going up in flames. I won't let you make this mistake."

"You say that like you can control what I choose."

Sora breathed in, then exhaled a cloud of smoke. "I have no control over your choices. But I won't be with you so long as it threatens your people."

"As if you care about the water tribes!" she snapped. "To you, they're just a bunch of scattered dots on the top of the map. To me, they're home. You can't claim to love them like I do."

"I love _you_!" He sucked in a sharp breath, as if someone had struck him. "I'm not breaking this off—whatever _this _is—because of your people. I'm breaking this off because of _you_."

She flinched, then wiped the tears from her cheeks. _It wasn't supposed to be like this, _she thought. _I was supposed to be free. _A sob broke through her throat, and she pressed her palms over her face to stifle it. "That's the worst love confession I've ever heard," she mumbled through her hands.

"It wasn't supposed to come out like that." Sora sat down beside her, his hand wrapping around hers. "I'm sorry."

"You mean it wasn't supposed to come out at all." She sniffed. "I get it."

His grip tightened. "I do like you, Meira. More than I'd have thought possible for how little time I've known you." A trace of bitterness seeped into his voice. "If I didn't understand the consequences of keeping you here, if there wasn't so much at stake, I would keep you here until the sun set on the world and the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation crumbled around us. But if you stay, your people will die. And you would never forgive me for keeping you from your duty."

"You don't know that," she said. But her voice was weak, uncertain. New tears filled her eyes, not from anger but from defeat. Sora lifted his hand and caught a teardrop before it could slide down her chin.

"Keeping you from your duty would be the height of dishonor," he said, seeming to choose his words carefully. "The Fire Nation still values honor above things like love, or family, or friendship. Fire Lord Zuko may have been seeking peace when he declared an end to Sozin's War, but he also strengthened the one attribute that will bring the Fire Nation to its knees: our sense of honor. Parents speak of honor to their children. Teachers preach it in school. Children challenge each other with the very idea of it. And it is a noble idea, an idea anyone can aspire to."

Sora paused, then looked at her. "The Fire Nation will see the Earth Kingdom's attacks as dishonorable, sneaky, and treacherous," he said. "They will speak of the Earth Kingdom's people as if they are beasts unworthy of respect or kindness. They will display propaganda and recruit soldiers by demonizing the Earth King and all who follow him. And, because the people of the Fire Nation believe in doing the honorable thing, they will overlook rational options. They will refuse to sneak, refuse to attack areas crowded with civilians, refuse to burn crops and torch supply lines. And they will lose."

"War can turn anyone into a monster," Meira whispered. "Why would honor stand up under the same conditions?"

Sora sighed. "If honor was not so powerful, I would beg you to stay by my side. I've lived away from the Fire Nation for nearly half my life, and I'm still bound by that ideal, even though I know it's foolish. Those who join the Fire Nation's military force will be driven by honor even more than they will by glory, anger, or patriotism." Sora lifted his eyes. "If you want to survive this war, go to the Earth Kingdom and marry the prince. Do your duty, as you have always done. You may not be happy with your life, but you will be proud that you are protecting your people by living it. Isn't that enough reason to go?"

She said nothing. There was nothing _to _say.

The front door swung open, hitting the wall. Beside her, Sora winced. _Kotono must be back from the market, _Meira thought, wiping her eyes.

Sora stood and started walking for the living room. "Did you find . . . Who the hell are you?"

Panic sparked just under her ribs. She shot up from the bed, retreating against the wall as several men in cone-shaped hats and emerald robes shoved past Sora and stormed the bedroom. _Dai-Li agents, _she thought, shock freezing her in place. _They're here. But how? _She looked to Sora. _Was he lying? Could he have told them about me when they visited him last night? _She searched his face for some sign of betrayal, but saw only shock. _Impossible. Who else could have tipped them off?_

The answer hit her like a punch, but by then, a dozen stone hands had wrapped around her arms, dragging her out of the apartment.


	26. Prisoner of War

Chapter Twenty-Six

The ship rocked like a cradle as Meira stared out at the water. _I ran away from home to avoid a political marriage,_ she thought. _How did I get __scooped up like an elephant rat in a cat-owl's talons by the Earth Kingdom?_

"Would you like something to drink, Princess?" one of the servants asked, coming up behind her with a tray of unfamiliar beverages. Despite the gentle rolling of the ship, the liquid in the glasses barely rippled.

Meira stared at the boy dully, wondering if he was calling her princess because of her position in the Northern Water Tribe or because she would soon be married to the Earth Prince. He waited, appearing to take no notice of her sluggishness. After a moment, she said, "I'm not thirsty."

"Very well. Shall I fetch you something to eat, then?"

_So eager to please, _she thought. _How do people live like this? _In the water tribes, one was expected to pull their own weight, regardless of rank or lineage. In fact, people respected the royal family _because _they helped provide for the tribe. Harsh winters meant everyone in the city had to hunt, make clothes, or repair and build shelters. She'd used her waterbending hundreds of times to help the fishermen net more fish, or the builders construct ice blocks for houses, or to melt ice for drinking water. Having dozens of servants available was a foreign experience for her.

"I'm not hungry, either," she said in response to the servant's question. "I'd like to be alone."

"Of course, Princess. I apologize if I have annoyed you."

"That wasn't what I . . ." she began as the boy rushed away, disappearing behind a stack of crates. ". . . meant." She sighed, glancing at the Dai-Li agents standing around her. "Is it necessary for you all to watch me? I'm not going to jump off the boat." _I can't swim, anyway. _

"We have been ordered to ensure your safe arrival in New Haran."

She groaned, tilting her head so it rested on the back of the chair. The servants had fetched it for her when she'd walked out on deck. She hadn't even asked them to bring it—they'd just appeared with the chair in their hands and left it there for her convenience. _Even if I could escape, what would I do? Return to Republic City? Go home? Flee to the Fire Nation? Find Zelda? _

So many options. Yet she could take none of them. Sora had rejected her, hoping she would do her duty. Perhaps she'd have fought harder, tried to persuade him or search for another way to keep her tribe safe, if she hadn't been dragged out of the room and put on this boat. But now that she was on her way to the Earth Kingdom, the cold logic of marrying the Earth Prince had started to sink in.

Beside her, one of the Dai-Li agents spoke. "Princess, if it's not too much trouble, have you thought of anything that may lead us to your sister?"

"No. I told you I didn't know where she was." _Or even if she's alive. _Her fingers curled around the narrow armrest. And even if she _had _known, she wouldn't have told them. Though they were sisters, Zelda's Fire Nation half stuck out. She had the right body type, the right coloration. More importantly, Zelda was a firebender. She would not be welcomed in the Earth Kingdom during a war, regardless of her status.

Besides, Zelda wanted to protect the people of the Fire Nation. She couldn't do that from the Earth Kingdom.

"Any detail at all could help," the agent said. "Though you were the only one we were required to bring to the Earth Kingdom, your parents and the Earth Kingdom's royal family wished for your sister to be secured if possible."

_They want Zelda for insurance, _she thought, somehow disappointed by the lack of surprise she felt. _At least now, only one of us has to be a pawn to the Earth Kingdom. _"I can't think of any details that could lead to her being found," she said.

"Very well. Please, if anything occurs to you, tell us."

She sat back, saying nothing, and watched the clouds float over her head.

* * *

><p>"So, you're an earthbender, huh?" Zelda asked, watching from the park bench.<p>

Ferron glanced up, releasing the rock he'd been trying to lift. It hit the grass with a thud, bouncing once before coming to rest. "Yeah. Terrin's teaching me." He glanced back at the tent. His earthbending teacher had taken his sleeping bag and returned to the tent as soon as Zelda had woken up, pausing only to give him a few terse instructions on which techniques he was supposed to practice. Terrin had spent most of the night rolling over in his sleeping bag and complaining about the lumpy ground beneath them.

Ferron hadn't said anything, but he couldn't help feeling a twinge of resentment, knowing that Terrin had never slept on the ground until they'd left Ba Sing Se. Ferron had spent many nights in alleys, doorways, and abandoned houses, waiting for his mother to come home with or without money for food. Things had gotten somewhat better since he'd been discovered as the Avatar, but being homeless taught a person skills they didn't easily forget.

"You're not very good," Zelda commented, eyeing the fist-sized rock he'd been straining to lift since early this morning.

"This is just a warmup," Ferron said, although a sweat had broken out across his forehead. "I've lifted heavier rocks." He settled into his stance and lifted the stone again, straining against the weight. _  
><em>

Zelda stood, walking over to him and plucking the rock he'd been holding up from the air. As soon as he felt the added resistance, he struggled to free the stone from her grasp. Her fingers tightened around the rough edges, her physical strength more than enough to keep him from wrestling the rock free with his bending. He sighed. "That's not helping."

"I know." She turned the rock around in her hands, studying it from all angles. "You know, this reminds me of a turtle-seal shell. Bumpy, but not sharp enough to scrape your hand if you touch it."

_What does that have to do with anything? _he wondered, eyebrows coming together. "Can I have my rock back now?"

"Do you think you could change the shape of this rock?" she asked. "Maybe make it look like a turtle-seal shell?"

He frowned, torn between puzzlement and annoyance at the odd request, but took the rock back and sat down. "Maybe," he said. "I've only ever seen turtle-seals in books, so it won't be perfect." _And since when has anything I've ever done been perfect, anyway? _

A smile dawned on her face, warm and somehow sad. "I'd really appreciate it."

_Spirits, she looks just like Freya when she smiles like that. _He shook off the thought; now wasn't the time to think of Freya. He sat down, running his thumbs across the rough surface. He'd taken art classes in Ba Sing Se as part of his required schooling. The earthbenders in class had been given the option to bend small rocks into shapes as part of their sculpting unit. Ten years old at the time, Ferron had still clung to the hope that he might one day become a good earthbender. He still couldn't bend well enough to save his life, but he _had _managed to make some decent sculptures in his art class.

He set to work, envisioning a turtle-seal lying on the beach and positioning the rock to best fit that image. Then, eyebrows slanting in concentration, he began running his fingers across the surface, using his bending to create tiny fissures in the rock. Dust and sand began to form as he gently smoothed the stone, falling away as he started forming the creature's front flipper. When that began to take shape, he moved to the top of the rock and started smoothing out the spot that would make up the shell. Zelda watched him intently, seeming to study his technique.

Ferron shaped the shell, then the back legs, then the head, working until the rock resembled a turtle seal. Finished with the basic shape, he moved in for the finer details, slowing down as he brushed away dust and molded the stone in his hand. Once he'd finished shaping it, he ran his fingers across the flippers, leaving tiny, barely visible cracks to give the flipper the appropriate texture. He did the same with the shell, making the cracks slightly wider to show the separate segments. When he finished, he handed the figurine to Zelda. "What do you think?"

She cradled it in her hands like a precious artifact. "It's beautiful. Thank you."

Belatedly, he realized he'd started smiling. He looked down. "It's not a big deal. I guess the one good thing about being so weak with earthbending is that I don't have to worry about losing control."

Zelda ran her thumb across the turtle seal's back. "This isn't weakness. This is art."

"I'm glad someone seems to think so." Grateful that Terrin still slept, Ferron glanced back at the tent. "I should go back to practicing. Terrin will get mad if he finds out I spent the past fifteen minutes making a figurine." He rose from his crouch, dusting off his hands.

"You're lucky you have someone to teach you earthbending," Zelda said, her eyes straying to the tent. "Even a bad teacher is better than no teacher."

"I guess." _Terrin did keep me from getting dragged back to Ba Sing Se, after all._

"You know, I found a firebending teacher here a few days ago," Zelda said suddenly. "She was supposed to meet me in the park again today, but I haven't seen her."

_Maybe she abandoned you, _he thought, but didn't say. People abandoned each other all the time in Ba Sing Se, either because they got sick of taking care of someone else or because they got arrested for stealing, which was the only reliable way for most citizens to get food. "I'm sure your Sifu just forgot. She'll probably show up later looking for you."

"Yeah." Zelda looked out across the park. "I hope so."

* * *

><p>For the second time in two weeks, Taemin stood in one of the underground bunkers, feeling the earth shake above her. A group of sentries had spotted an Earth Kingdom airship coming over the horizon an hour ago, leading a pack of similar vessels. They'd flown over the Great Gates of Azulon, casting massive shadows in the bay. The sentries had had just enough time to activate the city's alarm system before the first bombs struck the island. Taemin hoped those few minutes had been enough for her people to find a safe place, although she knew there weren't enough underground bunkers for everyone to retreat to. Most likely, many of those who'd survived the first attack were now perishing under the Earth Kingdom's assault.<p>

The door to the bunker opened with a creak, and for a moment, the noise level doubled. Everyone inside shuffled uneasily as two of her advisors, Henso and Araneo, entered. "My lady," they greeted her, bowing in unison.

"Report," Taemin said tersely, barely trusting her voice with the ground rumbling all around her.

"We've lost most of the harbor district, as well as a good portion of the inner city," Araneo said, lifting her head. A smear of blood had dried just above one of her eyes, and strands of hair stuck out of her braid like pieces of black straw. "According to our advance scouting crew, the alarm went out in time. Most of our citizens managed to find shelter."

_That _came as a bit of a surprise. "Where?"

"Reports indicate that several people spread out, ordering others to descend into the storm sewers until the attack was over. We've had one section of the sewers collapse due to heavy bombing, but the rest of the system appears to be in tact."

_The sewers. Brilliant. _"Allocate all medical resources to the storm sewers to begin tending any wounded. Tell them to spread out from there." She doubted it would do much good—anyone caught aboveground during the bombing would likely be dead by now—but injuries caused by a the chaotic movement of people could be dealt with.

"Yes, my lady." Araneo bowed again and hurried out the door.

"Henso, what do we know about the rest of the Fire Nation? Where else are we under attack?"

"At this time, we have received no communications regarding other danger zones. It's possible that anyone under attack is too occupied to relay damage reports, but it seems most likely that the Capital is the only target."

_They must be trying to frighten us. _She felt a surge of anger at the thought. The Earth Kingdom had already obliterated a good portion of the Fire Nation Capital, to say nothing of the ports and industrial zones they'd bombed during the Day of Black Sun. Attacking now, when the Fire Nation had already begun to crack, could only be meant as a reminder of the danger they faced.

"Any other news?" she asked.

"Not as of yet," Henso said.

"Very well. Then I need something from you."

He raised an eyebrow, evidently startled by her directness. The past few weeks, she'd been reacting to the Earth Kingdom's assaults. Despite her few displays of defiance, she'd mostly listened to her advisors, relying on them to prioritize things for her. _It's time to start being proactive, _she thought. "Find Admiral Rozen. I need someone to escort me back into the palace."

"Milady, it's too dangerous. The airships are still—" Henso flinched as another explosion rumbled above. "We're still in danger. This is the _least _appropriate time for you to be wandering the palace halls."

"I have something I need to do. This isn't a request, Henso. It's an order."

The bald man grit his teeth, frustration showing plain on his face. His hands flexed, thick fingers curling and uncurling. If he'd been a firebender, Taemin imagined he'd be exhaling smoke by now. "Very well," he finally said. "I will retrieve Admiral Rozen."

He stalked out of the room without another word, leaving the rumble above as the only sound in the bunker.

* * *

><p><em>How ironic, <em>Yuuto thought, covering his ears as an explosion shook the walls of his tiny cell. _Spared from the guillotine only to be killed by my own General. The spirits must be laughing. _

Outside, it quieted. The explosions came every minute or so, drowning out the cries of the other prisoners. Yuuto preferred it that way. Although the Fire Lady had explicitly forbidden the torture of prisoners of war, cramped quarters and negligent guards twisted the minds of those who had been here too long. A part of him wondered if he, too, had lost his mind, but that seemed unlikely. He'd been down here only a few days, and while he knew the gravity of his situation had worn on his nerves, he doubted he could go insane so quickly.

Another explosion. The wails from other inmates dissolved in the cacophony, then grew loud again as the roar calmed.

Yuuto stayed quiet, staring at the bars of his cage, praying. He'd never put much stock in spirits. Not until after he'd been drafted as an engineer. Even then, he'd prayed only when prompted by Gamon, the head engineer. The man had taken the engine crew aside twice each day to pray to an assortment of different spirits. Yuuto had played along, asking the spirits for an easy victory and a fast return home.

Now he prayed that, if he had to die, he'd die quickly. After being abandoned by General Shaio, imprisoned by the new Fire Lady, and left alone in this tiny, dark cell, he dared not hope for anything more. _Spirits, please, _he thought, shuddering at the next explosion. _Let this be the end._

* * *

><p>"Absolutely not," Admiral Rozen said.<p>

"I need someone to escort me," Taemin argued.

"Your advisors are right. It's far too dangerous for you to go aboveground."

"I'll only be aboveground for a few minutes. I _need _to do this."

Admiral Rozen shook her head, her long, bronze hair rippling in the faint light. "It's just not possible. The order went out right after the attack—no one leaves the bunkers once they get in."

"I'm the _Fire Lady_. I don't have to follow anyone's orders."

"You are also a child. You know too little of the world to be making such risky decisions."

"It is as I said before, milady," Henso interjected. "It is simply too dangerous for you up there."

"I need to speak with one of the prisoners. It can't wait."

Henso glanced at Rozen, then sighed audibly. "This is ill-advised."

Taemin's hands curled into fists. "I'm prepared to make this a royal command. I know what I'm doing."

Rozen's eyes narrowed. "Child, do you even comprehend the gravity of that kind of command? You'd be condemning yourself and anyone you brought with you to suicide."

Fire bloomed along her knuckles. "I _command _you to let me go," she said. "Whether either of you accompany me to the surface is irrelevant." She yanked the door open, smoke flowing out of her nose as she stalked down the stone corridor leading up to the palace. Sure enough, she heard the door open a second time moments later.

"Very well," Admiral Rozen said, catching up in just a few strides. "I shall accompany you to the palace. But as soon as you are done with whatever you're planning, we will return to the bunkers."

"Fine." Taemin started up the stairs. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>"Spirit of Ariadne, please guide me through this tumultuous time and . . . and . . ." Yuuto inhaled sharply, feeling as if someone had wrapped a leather harness around his lungs to keep them from expanding. He couldn't breathe. His hands shook. The ringing in his ears drowned out the noise of the explosions outside, and he'd lost his ability to hear the other prisoners. If any of them still lived. A few minutes ago, one of the bombs had ruptured the palace just above the dungeons, obliterating half a dozen cells and sending a plume of smoke and fire down the corridor. Yuuto had been lucky—if one could call it luck. At the end of the hallway, his cell was one of the farthest from the impact site. Though hot smoke seethed in his lungs, he still lived. For the moment.<p>

"Spirit . . . Spirit of Elda, purveyor of good f-fortune, send me your grace . . ." he whispered. Elda had been one of Gamon's favorite spirits—the old engineer had prayed to her every night, asking for safe travels. Gamon had spent his adolescence on a lobster-crab boat, where the threat of death hovered over every vessel like an endless shadow. Luck, Gamon claimed, had been the only thing standing between the frigid northern seas and certain death.

Through the ringing in his ears, Yuuto heard another explosion. He shuddered. "Spirit of Aslan, grant me the b-bravery to make it through these trials . . . Spirit of Erinne, grant me the wisdom to make use of what I have . . . Spirit of Caldina, calm this tempest that has become my life . . . save me . . ." He choked on the smoke, eyes watering as he wheezed. "Save me . . . Someone save me!"

"He should be just down this hallway."

Yuuto froze, his lips trembling even as his pleas died on his tongue. _A voice? _He sat up, unwilling to believe it. _Have I gone mad? Or could someone really be coming to save me? _He lurched forward, a wild hope flaring in his chest. "Hello? Who's out there?"

"We're looking for the Earth Kingdom soldier named Yuuto," said a female voice.

"I'm here! I'm here, let me out!" He clawed at the bars of his cell, choking on the smoke. Two figures—one tall and decked in armor, the other slight and short like a child—approached his cell, and he heard the miraculous jingling of keys. "Oh, thank you," he whispered, crawling through the cell door as it opened. "Thank you."

"We'll take him back underground," said the woman in armor. She grabbed his arm, pulling him to his feet. "You're Yuuto?"

"Yes. Thank you for saving me. I couldn't—"

"Save your breath," she interrupted. "It's a long walk to the bunkers, and your day's about to get busy."

_The bunkers, _he thought, nearly passing out in relief. They would take him to safety. They would keep him alive. They . . . Why would they keep _him _alive? "Why . . ." he began to ask. A fit of coughing interrupted him. He staggered several steps before collapsing onto his knees, wheezing. The woman's hand tightened around his arm, yanking him up again. His head spun.

He faded in and out. The smoke made his mind hazy, limiting his thoughts to the mechanical actions of walking. Every few minutes, he'd begin to wonder why he'd been spared, or what these people meant to do to him now that his life wasn't in immediate jeopardy, but he never stayed aware enough to ponder those questions for long. Only when they started descending down a sloping corridor where the smoke hadn't infiltrated did his mind start to clear.

"Get inside," ordered the woman in armor. Yuuto stumbled through an open doorway, then collapsed onto the first patch of open ground he could find. Things moved in his peripheral vision, and it took him a few seconds to realize he'd been tossed into a room full of people, most of whom looked just as anxious as he felt.

"Thank Agni," someone muttered. "You're back."

"Did you expect me not to return, Henso?"

"You should not have put yourself at risk, Lady Taemin. Is that . . ."

"A prisoner of war," she said. "We found him masquerading as a servant a few days ago. He was a spy for the Earth Kingdom."

"Hardly," Yuuto rasped. The single word sent him into another fit of coughing. He felt several dozen sets of eyes on him, but he felt too dizzy to do anything more than crouch where he was, gasping like a dying koi.

"You shouldn't have brought him here," said the man who'd spoken before. Henso. "Who knows what secrets he's already discovered?"

"I've done nothing," Yuuto croaked. "My General ordered me to come here, but I'm no spy. I don't know anything."

"Not of the Fire Nation," said the girl Henso had referred to as Lady Taemin. The name sounded familiar, though Yuuto couldn't quite place it. _Come to think of it, her voice sounds familiar, too. _He lifted his head to look at her, then froze. _Couldn't be . . . Could it?_

"You're . . . Are you the Fire Lady?"

"No questions," Henso growled.

"Enough." The girl stepped forward. "I am Taemin, current ruler of the Fire Nation. I have brought you here to obtain information from you by whatever means necessary."

His stomach dropped. "I . . . Please, don't hurt me. I've cooperated. I . . . I already told the guards what they wanted to know."

"I have new questions. First, I want to know the number of bombs an Earth Kingdom airship can carry."

He blinked, then answered automatically. "Two sets of six in a large craft. Two sets of four in a smaller airship."

"And the airships that were sent to attack this city two weeks ago—were they fully loaded?"

He hesitated. _This is treason, _he thought. _I shouldn't be giving this information away. _

"Tell her, boy," Henso growled. "Or we'll beat it out of you."

"_Enough_," Taemin snapped. "No one's beating anyone."

_Not yet, anyway. _Yuuto shuddered. He couldn't be considered a traitor for revealing information under duress, could he? He was just an engineer. He knew nothing of war. His rank barely qualified him to serve tea.

The question seemed innocuous enough. The Fire Nation couldn't launch an assault with the information he could offer. "All the airships were fully loaded when they were sent to attack. It's possible that some retreated for a time to acquire more ammunition, but it would take at least two days for the fleet to cross the sea to reach the nearest military base, assuming all ships were traveling at full speed."

"How many ships were in the fleet that attacked the Capital City two weeks ago?"

"Twenty-two." Anticipating her next question, he added, "That's a total of two-hundred sixty-four bombs. We spent about a quarter of that on the first assault. I think . . . I think the fleet was under orders to save some ammunition for the way back, so they could decimate the other cities, but I'm not sure . . . "

"Henso, tell Yaku and Araneo of this. Have them send word out to any islands that might get hit as the fleet returns to the Earth Kingdom. You," she continued, turning back to him. "What do you know of your General's battle plans?"

He hesitated. He wouldn't likely be branded a traitor for the other information he'd revealed—it had consisted of things that the people of the Fire Nation would have figured out on their own with some observation—but revealing battle plans would definitely be considered treason. "I can't tell you."

"You don't have a choice."

"I _can't_. I don't know anything! I'm just an engineer. I . . . I shouldn't have even been taking orders from General Shaio to begin with. He's not my direct superior. The chain of command . . . I . . . Please . . . " Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. "Please, have mercy."

The heavy door creaked open, interrupting whatever the Fire Lady had opened her mouth to say. She cast a glance toward the figure in the doorway. "What is it, Yaku?"

"The airships have pulled out. The attack appears to be over."

A ripple of relief seemed to spread through the room. Even Yuuto, still in peril, felt the tension drain out of his body. He slumped to the ground, breathing hard. "We'll stay in the bunkers another thirty minutes," Taemin said. If the ships show no signs of doubling back by then, we'll return to the surface to take stock of the damage."

"As you wish," Yaku said. "Um, my lady . . . Is there a reason you've brought that Earth Kingdom boy into the bunker?"

The Fire Lady turned her gaze back to Yuuto. He looked down, freezing when she crouched in front of him. "You've been a valuable resource to me," she said quietly. "I may request your services again. You said you were an engineer?"

He nodded, face streaked with ash and tears.

"How advanced is the technology in the airships?"

"It . . ." His breath caught. "It's the best in the world. My father designed it."

"How familiar are you with the technology?"

A pit formed in his stomach. "I won't build airships for you. I can't. I'm not a traitor."

"You're not in the Earth Kingdom right now, you're in the Fire Nation. _I _am the only person in a position to have you executed. Don't forget that."

He said nothing. His hands shook.

"Miri, after we leave this bunker, I want you to escort Yuuto to one of the guest chambers in the palace. He will be under guard at all times and will be confined to his room, but he is to have access to food, water, and any other necessities until I order otherwise."

"Yes, milady."

_Guest chambers? _he thought, lifting his head to stare at the Fire Lady in disbelief. _What? _"I don't . . . I don't understand."

The Fire Lady looked at him, her face smooth, unreadable. "We are not savages. We do not kill needlessly. You won't be punished unless you do something to harm myself or my people. If you don't wish to work with us, so be it. But know that if you do, you will be rewarded for your contributions." She walked away, leaving him to stare blankly at the spot where she'd crouched in front of him.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes:<em>

_I would have had this chapter up sooner, but several things hindered my progress. First, it was computer trouble (I had to go out and buy a new laptop, then have my data transferred from my old laptop to my new one). Then, it was Prom, which took up much more time than I expected. Then came the last, hectic weeks of my high school career, which is now thankfully over. I won't say updates will be coming any faster, as I intend to get a job and I have graduation parties to deal with, but I wanted to give an explanation for my long absence. Also, I wanted to thank those of you who reviewed the last chapter. The most recent reviews I got prompted me to get off my butt and pound out this chapter so it didn't spend another month in development. We broke a record for this fic with five reviews in the last chapter, so I'm hoping to match it this time around. Thanks, as always, for those of you who have or will review this story._


	27. Deceptions and Betrayals

_Author's Notes:_

_The flow of time speeds up a little bit in this chapter. So far, very little time has actually elapsed between the start of the war and this point in the story. To keep things realistic, the big events are going to be a little further spaced apart from now on. I will try to keep a cohesive time-line going throughout this story, but that is one of the things I struggle with most when I'm writing, particularly with a story that has so many viewpoints. If all goes well, however, the scene order will be chronological from here on out._

* * *

><p>Chapter Twenty-Seven<p>

They ate in silence.

Yumao swept another serving of rice onto his plate, drenching it in sauce and ignoring the rest of his meal. He'd taken two bites of the roasted goose-duck out of courtesy, then nudged it toward the edge of his plate, hiding it under a bed of vegetables.

Across the circular table, his father sat. King Haran wasted nothing. Yumao might have said that the king devoured his food, except that the word _devoured _implied a sort of careless savagery, like what some backwater tribe might engage in after catching a catgator. King Haran ate quickly, but observed manners so rigidly that he could never be accused of devouring his food.

To his left, Yoru ate with zeal, observing table manners only when it suited him. As Yumao watched, he reached across the table and grabbed the tray of steamed vegetables that his wife, Xing, had been picking through. Her black eyes shot up to Yoru's face, narrowing. Yoru paid her no attention, shoveling vegetables onto his plate. Even when Xing sighed loudly, he continued eating.

Yumao kicked him under the table. Yoru's head snapped up, eyes flickering to Yumao. "What?" he mouthed.

Yumao jerked his chin toward Xing.

Wiping a spot of sauce from his lip, Yoru looked at his wife. "That's a lovely dress."

"I've worn it five times," she said flatly.

"Oh."

_Wonderful, _Yumao thought. _Now that Yoru has recovered, he and Xing can go back to hating each other. _He scraped the last few grains of rice from his plate, then laid his fork down, signaling the servants to clear his place mat. "Would you like any dessert, Prince Yumao?"

"Bacui berry pie, please."

"Yes sir." The servant departed. Yumao grabbed one of the cloth napkins and wiped his mouth.

"So," Yoru said, his voice carrying naturally even in the echoing room. "What have I missed while I've been ill?"

"I assigned your troops to another General," the king said, setting his fork beside his plate. King Haran never ordered dessert. "We didn't know whether you were going to recover in time to accompany your troops, so I thought I should assign someone else to them. You should be able to head out when we deploy more ground troops next week."

"Excellent. Where will I be going?"

"The cove near Ashwater. I trust you can figure out what to do from there."

"If it involves killing firebenders, I think I can manage." Yoru smiled, grabbing a piece of goose-duck from the serving plate and placing it on his own. "What else?"

"Omashu's studies have been going well," Xing said. "His earthbending might one day surpass yours."

Yoru chuckled. "Let us hope that doesn't happen for a few more years. I don't want to be shown up by a child."

"You should be proud of him. He lifted a stone the size of my head today."

"That's quite a feat, considering how inflated your head tends to get."

Yumao tensed, waiting for the eruption. However, Xing remained poised, even managing a smile. Only her rigid grip on her chopsticks belied her calm.

"Yoru, apologize to your wife," the king said. "And refrain from such rudeness in the future."

"I'm sorry, Xing," Yoru said, not sounding sorry at all.

"It's quite all right," Xing said, eyes narrowing.

Yumao sighed as his dessert arrived at the table. _Civility at its finest. _

The doors swung open for a parade of servants. The king glanced over his shoulder, then gestured for the lead servant to approach. "What is it?"

"The thirty-third fleet just attacked the Fire Nation Capital. General Shaio requests leave to return to the Earth Kingdom."

"Has he verified that the new Fire Lady perished in the attack?"

"He did not say."

The king's eyes narrowed. He turned his chair so it faced the messenger. "Did it not occur to you that, if he _had _managed to kill the Fire Lady, he might have included that in his message?"

The servant hesitated, and Yumao felt a twinge of sympathy for the man. Few could remain calm under his father's stare, even members of the royal family. "That . . . would be logical, Your Grace."

"Then would you not assume that to be the case?"

"I suppose I would, Your Grace."

"Good. Next time you bring me a message, take the time to study its meaning first."

"Yes, Your Grace. I apologize, Your Grace."

"Have you brought me anything else of note?"

"Our Dai-Li agents have sent letters addressed to you and to Prince Yumao. Would you like me to—"

"Leave mine on my desk. I will attend to it later."

"Yes, Your Grace." The servant bowed, then glanced at Yumao, looking for direction. Yumao beckoned him over, holding out his hand. The servant gestured for another man to present the scroll, which Yumao took. Then, the whole group bowed in unison and retreated through the doors.

"From the Dai-Li, huh?" Yoru grinned. "Maybe they sent news of your future bride."

Feeling ill, Yumao broke the wax seal and unrolled the scroll. It, like many scrolls that came to the royal family, had been written in elegant calligraphy, adding a respectful touch to the message. To Yumao, it seemed like a waste of effort—typed letters were so much easier to read, and they took less time to write. People wrote letters by hand only to obey impractical traditions and customs.

Nonetheless, he started reading. _Dear Prince Yumao, Third Heir to the Throne and Direct Descendant of His Grace, King Haran, _it began.

_Great, _he thought. _This is already painful. _

He read on. _We wish to inform you that we have secured Princess Meira of the Northern Water Tribe. At this moment, we are bringing her across the Mo Ce Sea. Our boat is expected to arrive near Serpent's Pass in fourteen days, at which point we will move to a smaller vessel and follow Limestone River to the drop-off point. Please pardon our tardiness—locating the princess proved more challenging than expected. Barring further mishaps, we shall __contact you __before we arrive __so that you may __greet your future bride as she steps off the boat. _

_ Yours truly,_

_ Rashan Muir, Captain of the Dai-Li and faithful servant to the crown._

"What's the news?" Yoru asked when Yumao rolled up the letter.

"My bride will be here in two weeks." The words sounded strange to his ears, as if someone had just told him he'd spend the next three days riding a pink eel hound across the Si Wong Desert. _Two weeks, _he thought. _What a nightmare._

* * *

><p>Yuuto ran his fingers along the slippery sheets. Even after nearly a week out of the palace dungeon, it still seemed unreal to him. The silk sheets, the soft glow of the lamps, the trays of food that came in three times each day . . . He'd spent half as much time in his cell than he had in this plush guestroom, yet he had trouble comprehending the impulse that had prompted the Fire Lady to let him stay here.<p>

_A padded cage is still a cage. _He kept that thought in the back of his mind, bringing it forward whenever he needed a reminder that he was in the middle of hostile territory. Yet that mantra seemed weaker now than it had a few days ago. Quieter. _Maybe it's because all those explosions damaged your ears, _he thought, shuddering. _Everything seems quieter now._

A sudden noise jolted him out of his reverie. Yuuto shot to his feet, hands flying up to cover his ears. When he realized the sound had only been a knock on the door, he forced himself to relax. "Yes?"

"Fire Lady Taemin has requested your presence," said a voice through the door. "You are to report immediately to the throne room."

His heart started racing. _She'll be looking for more information_. _She'll ask me to betray the Earth Kingdom. _His lungs seized up in panic. _What if I say no? What if I don't have the answers she wants? She could execute me. Or worse. _

"We're coming in." The metal door swung open, revealing the guard assigned to the evening shift. At least, Yuuto assumed it was the evening shift. He hadn't started keeping track until the second day, at which point he'd already sat through several shift changes.

"We'll escort you," the guard said, gesturing to the hallway with his spear. Although all the palace guards also carried guns, the possibility of ricocheting bullets meant that they relied heavily on short-range weapons like spears and halberds in enclosed spaces. _If I could just get far enough away, __maybe I could return to the Earth Kingdom, _he thought, then discarded the notion. Where would he go? Half a mile of barren rock surrounded this palace. Even if he made it past the gardens, the guards would have no trouble shooting him as he fled.

They led him down the corridor, moving with the confidence of men who expected their charge to obey. Yuuto kept pace, not daring to fall behind, but he couldn't help but get distracted by the elaborate red and gold banners on the wall. All contained elements of the Fire Nation's history and culture. The flame-shaped insignia common in earlier eras still dominated the walls, less a symbol of war and more a symbol of patriotism. Other images, many of them depicting scenes from Sozin's War, adorned the walls. He slowed slightly as he passed one showing the Fire Nation invading one of the air temples. _Three hundred years since they started that war, _Yuuto thought. _Three centuries, and the Earth Kingdom has forgotten the consequences. _

He shook off the thought. An entire nation of enemies surrounded him, eager to slaughter his people to avenge their own. While he'd never felt any overwhelming patriotism for the Earth Kingdom, he'd rarely felt any animosity toward it—certainly nothing that should cause him to waver now, faced by a child Fire Lord. He kept telling himself that, kept clinging to what little love he could drum up for the Earth Kingdom. He was no great patriot, but neither was he a traitor.

They turned down the next hallway and arrived minutes later outside the throne room. Curious in spite of himself, he peered through the door. A line of fire danced in front of the throne, separating the dais from the rest of the room. Several guards stood off to the sides, almost unnoticeable in their stillness. If this had been the Earth Kingdom rather than the Fire Nation, Yuuto might not have noticed them. As it was, the anxiety he felt at being surrounded by enemies only intensified as he caught sight of the armored figures.

"Listen carefully," said the guard who'd led him here. "When you enter the throne room, wait several meters back from the dais and kowtow until the Fire Lady acknowledges you?"

"What does _kowtow_ mean?"

The man's eyebrows knitted together as if it hadn't occurred to him that an outsider would be so unaware of Fire Nation customs. "It means to kneel with your forehead touching the ground, as you might worship a powerful spirit."

"Oh." _So formal. _

"Once she addresses you, you should rise to your feet and stand with your arms at your sides. Do not stick your hands in your pockets or otherwise make any move that might be considered hostile. Remember, boy, you'll be in the presence of royalty."

Yuuto managed to avoid glaring at the man's casual superiority. Barely.

"The Fire Lady may not recognize you immediately. She leads a busy life. If she does not know who you are, then state your name and remind her that she sent for you." The soldier eyed him for a moment. "Although I doubt she'll have trouble remembering you—I'll never understand Earth Kingdom style."

Offended, Yuuto lifted his hand to his bleached hair. "Lots of people dyed their hair in my hometown." At the soldier's flinty look, he fell silent again, looking at his feet. _Right. Obedience and respect. _

"Once she knows who you are, she will make some request or ask some question of you. I advise you do everything in your power to give her what she wants. When she is finished, she will dismiss you. Walk straight back to this door—someone will be waiting to escort you to your chambers."

He nodded just as an attendant stepped out of the throne room to inform them that he would be allowed to enter as soon as the Fire Lady dismissed her current visitor. Self-consciously, Yuuto straightened his shirt. He hadn't given any thought to his state of dress before he'd been escorted out of his rooms—for days, the only people who had seen him at all had been guards—but now he wondered if his simple clothes were appropriate attire for meeting with royalty. He doubted it.

"You may enter," said the attendant as a man in elaborate gold and white robes strolled out of the throne room. Lungs shriveling up, Yuuto entered the room. Except for the dais and the throne, it appeared to be nothing more than a spacious wooden room, almost like an extra room in a house. He walked forward, his gaze sweeping across the rows of soldiers. He had no doubt that their eyes followed his every move through the slits in their helmets.

When he reached the center of the room, he paused, trying in vain to remember his escort's instructions. His throat went as dry as the Si Wong Desert, and his fingers trembled, dripping sweat. He couldn't remember a single word his escort had said, and he had almost no knowledge of Fire Nation culture. _I should have paid closer attention, _he thought. _I should have spent the last few minutes committing those instructions to memory. I should have—_

"Aren't you going to bow?"

His head snapped up. Before he could really process anything else, his back bent in a stiff bow. As he rose, he remembered something about touching his forehead to the ground and waiting to be addressed. _But she already said something. What am I supposed to do now? _His eyes darted to every corner of the room, his breath coming faster. _I am so dead. _

A tinkling laugh interrupted his moment of panic. He looked up—was he supposed to look her in the eyes, he wondered, or was that optional?—and saw that Fire Lady Taemin had pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle her giggling.

"I'm sorry," she said, her mirth fading. "You looked so horrified that I couldn't help but laugh."

He stared at her. "I . . . I don't . . ."

She made a gesture to cut him off, then spoke. "Your name is Yuuto, yes?"

"Yes, my lady." His voice sounded thin and distant to his ears, even in the cavernous chamber.

"Yuuto, I trust you remember our last conversation."

"Yes, my lady." _Breathe, _he told himself, closing his eyes.

"And? Have you changed your mind?"

"I won't build airships for you. I'm sorry."

For a moment, the only sound in the throne room was the whisper of flame. "I see," the Fire Lady said, her voice cool, distant. Yuuto tensed. She had promised that he would only be punished if he harmed her people, but the last time he'd trusted a promise, Yuuto had ended up stuck in a prison cell as General Shaio dropped bombs all around him.

"You mentioned when we first met that one of your superiors sent you to the palace to masquerade as a servant. According to the story you told my guards, you came here to act as a spy for the Earth Kingdom."

He tensed, his dinner roiling in his stomach. "That's correct, my lady."

"Is it?" Her eyes fell on him, hard as steel. She rose from her chair, walking toward the row of flames. It parted for her like a curtain as she stepped off the dais. _I'm dead, _he thought. _It's over. She knows I wasn't sent here to spy. She knows I was told to poison her. _

"Min, Rah, would you please raise the flames a few feet?" Taemin asked, nodding toward a pair of firebenders near the walls. "I do not wish to be overheard."

Behind her, the flames roared, rising several feet into the air so that they concealed the throne. Sweat beaded on Yuuto's forehead, partly from the heat, partly from nerves. The Fire Lady looked up at him, her solemn expression making her seem intimidating despite her small stature. _No wonder her people follow her, _he thought wondering if he should kneel. _She may be a child, but she carries herself like a queen._

"You must be aware that I can have you executed on the grounds of being from the Earth Kingdom. Given that you are supposedly a spy as well, none of my advisors would even question my decision to have you killed."

He gulped, bowing his head. _I am not a traitor, _he told himself.

"But I think you and I both know that you're not a spy. Or, if you are, espionage was not your only mission here." Her eyes narrowed. "The guards found the poison hidden in your robes. One could very easily conclude that you were sent here to assassinate me."

"No, my lady," he said quickly. "I'm a spy, but that's all. The poison was meant for _me, _in case I was captured."

"Then why not drink it when my guards discovered you in the servants' chambers?"

He hesitated an instant too long. "I did not have time. I thought I still had a chance of escaping."

Her gaze pierced him like a dagger twisting in his gut. She lowered her voice so even he could barely hear. "That's a lie, isn't it?"

"It's the truth, my lady."

"If you meant to commit suicide in the event of your failure, why have you not made a noose from your bedsheets?" she asked. "The room has a ceiling fan. I ordered my guards to look the other way if you decided to hang yourself. Why, then, have you failed to do so?"

He said nothing, his mind going blank. Except as an excuse for the poison, he'd given little thought to suicide. Even in his darkest moments, he could not bring himself to consider it, could not bring himself to give up hope of rescue or escape.

When he didn't answer, the Fire Lady spoke. "Your life must be very dear to you. I imagine the thought of losing it would do wonders to change your mind about building airships for us."

His voice trembled. "I'm not a traitor."

"I am the ruler of this country. If I must, I can give you a new name, make you a citizen of the Fire Nation. If the Earth Kingdom ever asks about you, we will tell them we had you executed after your botched infiltration."

He froze, shocked. "Why? Why offer me citizenship? Why let me live in a nice room? Why treat me like a guest when you have a dozen reasons to execute me?" _Why me? _he wondered. _Spirits, why me?_

"Why give up all of those things in favor of being executed?" she countered.

Yuuto looked away.

"So you see," the Fire Lady continued, "it would be highly beneficial for both of us if you would accept my offer. A royal pardon and citizenship in the Fire Nation in exchange for a few hours each day with our engineering teams."

"I . . ." Despair lanced through him. _How can I refuse this? General Shaio has given me up for dead by now. Even if I don't betray the Earth Kingdom, I'll be reviled as a failure. _His eyes stung, tears slipping down his face. _I wasn't meant for this life. I wasn't meant for war. _

"Have you made your decision?"

He lifted his head. _Your country or your life. You can't have both. Not anymore. _His shoulders slumped. _Just make your choice, and all this will be over. _He inhaled, gathering what little courage he had, and answered.

"I'll do it."

* * *

><p>The letter arrived by messenger hawk. Narue looked up wearily, eyes sore from hours of writing and reading letters. <em>Perhaps Meira had a point, <em>he thought, heart aching at the thought of his eldest daughter. _I really should invest in a phone. _He frowned. To get electricity to run a phone, he'd also have to purchase a generator that could survive the frigid temperatures of the North Pole. To run the generator, he'd have to purchase fuel or hire a firebender to produce electricity. _All those expenses just to get a single phone up here, _he thought, shaking his head. _No. Better to just stick to letters. _

The messenger hawk squawked, demanding his attention. "Yes, yes," he grumbled, as if the bird could understand him. Hastily, he opened the cylinder on the hawk's back and pulled a scroll out. As he recognized the emerald seal, his heart jumped. _The Earth King must have found Meira and Zelda. _

He forced the thought away. Just as likely, the message would say that they had yet to find either of his daughters. Or perhaps the Earth King had lost his patience and decided to find a new bride for his son. Narue had never met King Haran—he'd never met any Earth Kingdom royalty—but from letters he'd exchanged with the man, he'd gathered that King Haran made no endeavors except those that had the potential to further his goals.

Nonetheless, he pried the wax seal off the scroll and unfurled it. _Dear Chief Narue of the Northern Water Tribe, _it began in elegant handwriting. _We are pleased to inform you __that we have located Lady Meira and are bringing her to the Earth Kingdom capital of New Haran. She is currently aboard the _Purple Lotus _and is being carried across the Mo Ce Sea. By the time this letter reaches you, we expect her to be three days out from port. We hope that you will continue to support the engagement between Lady Meira and Prince Yumao of the Earth Kingdom. Please feel free to contact us at your convenience._

_Sincerely,_

_Rien Al Shin_

_Department of Communications and Diplomacy_

_New Haran, Earth Kingdom_

Below the scribe's signature, the Earth Kingdom's royal seal had been stamped in shining gold ink, verifying that this letter had been approved by a member of the royal family before being sent off. Relieved, Narue leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "Oh, great spirit of Yue, thank you. Thank you."

"Narue?" a voice said behind him. He turned to see Zora standing in the doorway, wearing one of the silk gowns she'd brought with her from the Fire Nation.

"Zora." He stood, holding up the letter. "They found Meira. She's alive and on her way to New Haran."

His wife's eyes widened. Zora stepped forward, plucking the letter from his hand and reading it. Her mouth fell open as tears shone in her eyes. "Oh, Narue . . ." She lifted her free hand to her chest, her breath quickening.

He beamed at her as her eyes darted once more over the paper. Her hand slid down to her navel as she reread it. "Isn't it wonderful?" he asked when she met his eyes again. His exuberance faded as he saw the bloodless pallor of her cheeks. "Zora? It's . . . They may not have found Zelda, but this is great news. Finding Meira was more than we'd dared hope for. Perhaps she and Zelda had split up . . . Zora, what's wrong? You look ill."

Her eyes dropped to her stomach, panic flashing across her face.

"Zora . . ." Narue heard the warning in his own voice and willed it to sound calmer. "Is there something you wish to tell me?"

Zora straightened, wiping her eyes. "No," she said, her voice sounding cool, distant. "It's nothing. You're right. Zelda is young, but she knows how to handle herself. If anything, the fact that the Earth Kingdom found Meira alone suggests that Zelda has already found a route to safety."

He stared at her for a long moment. _How must it feel, _he wondered, _for her to know that our tribe's only chance for survival is to marry one daughter off to the Earth Kingdom and hope that our own marriage still binds us to the Fire Nation? How must it feel to be split between the two like this? _

"Are you going to write a letter to Meira?"

He blinked, surprised by the question. "Of course."

"I wish to send her a separate letter," Zora said. "Something from me and me alone."

Narue frowned. "Why?"

"To give her advice. She is a woman grown now, whether we like it or not. I want to make sure she's ready to handle life as a married woman."

"Well . . ." _I can't deny her, _he thought. _She is my wife, the mother of my children. If she wishes to send her own message separate from mine, I must trust that she has a good reason. _"Very well. It would be easier if we sent both messages with the same bird, but if you do not wish for me to see what you've written, that is your right."

"Thank you." Zora turned away, starting for the door.

"I love you," he called behind her.

She paused. "And I love you. Goodnight, Narue."


	28. The Earth Prince

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The Limestone River shimmered in the morning sun. Meira leaned over the railing, awed by the stark beauty of the shifting water. If she reached out with her bending, she could pull a globe of water up from the surface and let it swirl around her. She didn't try—the Dai-Li who had accompanied her had, very politely, forbidden her from bending until after she arrived in the city. Apparently, they were worried she'd try to escape.

They were right to be cautious. She'd considered running a hundred times since she'd been taken.

Meira had agreed to the terms, although the idea of going even a day without waterbending made her uneasy. Bending would do her little good here, in the middle of unfamiliar territory, outnumbered by earthbenders, miles away from her sister, from Sora, from anyone who knew her. Where could she run when walls of limestone loomed over her like walls in a prison cell? _I'd be caught before I could even leave the water, _she thought.

"Princess," a voice said behind her. She turned, recognizing one of the Dai-Li agents. She thought his name was Tam. "We have an hour of travel left before we dock in New Haran. With your permission, I can order the servants to gather your possessions from your room."

"That won't be necessary. The only things I brought with me are items you and your colleagues purchased at the docks in Republic City."

Tam paled but maintained eye contact. Meira stood, not waiting for a response. "I shall gather my things on my own, if that's all right." She cast a longing glance at the water below, then started for her chambers. Despite her lack of supplies, she'd been given the largest room, on this boat and on the ship they'd used to travel from Republic City to the inner part of the Earth Kingdom. Personally, she preferred this watercraft. Like the canoes of the Northern Water Tribe, this vessel was small enough to maneuver effortlessly around obstacles. Back home, those obstacles had consisted mostly of ice. Here, stones stuck out of the water like jagged teeth, as if threatening to devour them.

Once she reached her room, she grabbed her pile of dirty clothes and stuffed them into her suitcase. Apart from those and a few other essentials, she had nothing. No personal items, nothing to remind her of home. She didn't even have her water-skin because she hadn't been wearing it when she'd been taken from Sora's apartment.

With a sigh, she went back on deck and waited, staring at the river as they neared their destination. She kept expecting something bad to happen. Unfortunate events seemed to be a running theme of her life now—from pirates, to declarations or war, to finding out she was engaged, to being ripped away from the few people who had shown her kindness in Republic City . . . But nothing bad happened. Nothing except for their steady progress toward New Haran. The limestone walls pulled away from the river that had been named for them, and as they went around a bend, New Haran rose on the horizon. She gaped, stunned by the size—even Republic City had been smaller than this. Walls which she knew to be circular from her geography lessons looked almost straight due to the immense size of the city. Only when her eyes traced the edges did she see the curve more clearly. The outermost wall blocked her view of the streets and people, but skyscrapers shot into the air, far taller than the walls New Haran and its predecessor Ba Sing Se were known for. One glimpse told her that Republic City had nothing on this.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Tam asked, standing a bit taller as he studied the royal city. "A monument to human achievement."

_I think I'm going to faint, _she thought, but mercifully recovered before she could embarrass herself. _They called Ba Sing Se the city of walls and secrets, _she thought. _What must this place be like? _

Their boat continued down the river another few minutes before reaching the docks. To her surprise, the docks were not part of the city, but existed beyond the outer wall. "Why not just have the city touching the river?" she wondered aloud.

"King Haran ordered this city built at the beginning of his reign so that it would have room to grow," Tam explained, smiling. "If he'd allowed it to be built too close to the river, the construction of new walls would have been that much more difficult for the building teams."

"New walls?" she echoed.

"Yes, of course. Whenever the city's population grows too large, King Haran orders another ring to be built. With as many earthbending construction teams as we have, the new wall can be crafted in just a few weeks. The new ring then becomes the starting place for those who don't meet the requirements to move into the inner rings." Tam paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. "I suppose he will have to order another ring built to house refugees, now that we're at war."

Meira looked away. The war. How much would it change the world? Such a conflict hadn't been seen since Sozin's War. Would this last a hundred years as well? Would the normal state of the rest of her life be one of strife and political maneuvering?

The swiftness and skill with which the captain and crew docked their boat impressed her, and barely five minutes after they settled on an empty dock, Tam and the other Dai-Li agents formed two lines and led her onto the shore. All around them, men with arms like pipes carried crates and sacks and pushed carts holding the same. Surrounded by so much activity, it took Meira a moment to realize that someone awaited her on the shore. He wore an outfit made of white and green silk. From where she stood, Meira thought the buttons looked gold, though they were more likely some less valuable metal. Most people wore gold as jewelry, not on their clothes. _Then again, the Earth Kingdom is famous for its mines. And if that's__ real silk, __maybe those buttons are real__ gold. _

The man smiled, his dark green eyes catching the sun for just a moment. As he bowed, his light brown hair fell over his forehead. He had a superficial resemblance to Sora, though only enough to make Meira feel a stab of grief. "I trust you had a safe trip, Princess Meira. I am honored to meet you."

"Thank you for receiving me, Lord . . ." she said, starting to bow.

"No need for titles. I'm not a lord, anyway." He glanced toward the Dai-Li agents. "Thank you for ensuring her safety. We've set up a Sato for you to return to the city."

"Yes, sir." Tam turned to his men and gestured with one hand. The two lines merged into one, and the Dai-Li filed off toward their assigned Satomobile.

"Princess, if you would come this way," said the man in the silk shirt. She followed him to a more luxurious Sato parked on the side of the road. "Do you have need of anything? A drink? Something to eat?"

She shook her head. "The servants on the boat took care of my needs quite well." _Almost too well. _

"All right, then." He opened the door for her, revealing two booths, each facing each other, with pull-down tables in the center. She slid into the seat facing forward, then blinked in surprise as her escort sat in the opposite seat and closed the door. "We'll be heading straight to New Haran from here. It's normally about a ten minute affair, but with the influx of new residents, it might take as long as half an hour. I hope this won't be a problem."

"Not at all."

"Ah, good. Driver." He gestured toward the front, then relaxed into his seat as the Sato started forward. He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning back against his seat and inhaling slowly. As the tension drained out of his face, his age seemed to drop. On the dock, she'd assumed him to be in his mid-twenties, perhaps closer to thirty than twenty-five. Relaxed, he looked no older than twenty-one or twenty-two.

"So," he said, opening his eyes. "You are to be betrothed to the younger Earth Prince. What do you think of him?"

She decided to stick with the safest reply. "I haven't met him. I'm afraid I don't know enough to judge him."

"But you must have heard stories. News travels so quickly now that television has become widespread."

"We didn't have television in the North Pole. We preferred written word."

He raised an eyebrow. "No TV at all?"

She shook her head, wondering if she should feel ashamed. Her father had scorned technology—said it was too impersonal for such a close-knit society—and the tribe had followed his example. They imported books, materials, and luxury items, but electricity simply hadn't come to the North Pole. _One day, _she thought ruefully.

"What do you do all day without TV?" her escort wondered, looking out the window. He seemed strangely at ease, considering how reverently the servants on the boat had treated her. To her, his casual behavior suggested either a lot of experience dealing with nobility or, despite his aversion to titles, a noble heritage. _Already, I'm being played. But what's his game?_

In answer to his question, she said, "I practice my waterbending or attend to my duties. I would assume any future leader would be too busy to spend much time watching television."

The man's smile widened. "Perhaps. Although, it does seem that royalty would have the right to take time for themselves whenever they wish, provided there is no overwhelming pressure to do something else."

She shrugged. "If I finished my duties for the day, I walked around the city to see what I could do to help my people."

"Which is a reasonable action when you only have control over one city and can justify spending time with lower-ranking citizens," the man said, nodding.

Meira stiffened, her eyes narrowing. "I would think spending time with your people—regardless of rank—would be a vital and honorable use of time for _any _future leader. You cannot lead people who do not know and respect you."

Her escort looked up. The smile had vanished from his face, replaced with a startled expression. He fiddled with the collar of his shirt, rubbing one button between his thumb and forefinger. "Interesting."

Her eyebrows knitted together. "What do you mean?"

"In the Earth Kingdom, it is generally believed that a king has more important things to do than tend to his subjects. Things like drafting laws and creating war strategies. The Earth Kingdom is too vast for any man, even a king, to interact with all his people. That's why we have a noble class to deal with the commoners."

She frowned. She didn't like the way he said "commoners," as if referring to a faceless crowd or numbers on paper. "My father always taught me that a good leader is someone both seen and respected by their people."

"And the Earth Kingdom's royal family is both seen and respected—on TV, in newspapers, in parades, and at festivals. They speak to the Earth Kingdom at large. Why should they spend time speaking to someone in the streets who isn't likely to assist with their goals when they can reach thousands of people in minutes through a prerecorded speech?"

She sat back, saying nothing. She couldn't deny the logic of it—with as many people as the Earth Kingdom had, the royal family could not possibly address everyone as an individual—but it still bothered her. _So impersonal, _she thought. _They are strangers to their people just as much as I am a stranger to the Earth Prince. _

"Have I offended you?" her escort asked, the smile dropping off his face.

"No," she said after a moment's consideration. "I do not like the attitude you claim the royal family has toward the 'commoners.'" She couldn't quite manage to hide her annoyance at the term. "But you have dealt me no personal insult, so why should I be offended?"

He regarded her for several seconds, then sat back. "You have an interesting way of looking at things, Princess. Tell me, did you know every peasant in your city up north?"

Her fingers curled. "No," she admitted. "But I do make an effort to meet as many of them as possible, in person, for a one-on-one conversation."

"But I'm assuming your other duties—waterbending practice, political dealings, event planning—take precedence over these conversations."

She fidgeted, then turned her head to glare out the window. "I hardly see how any of this is your concern. I did not come here to discuss philosophy—I came here to cement an alliance between my people and the Earth Kingdom in preparation for this war."

"It's a bit late for preparation. The war's already started."

"Yes, with a sneak attack on the Fire Nation during their most vulnerable moment. I'm quite aware."

His eyes widened, but his grin did not return. He leaned forward, laying his hands on the edge of his seat. "What would you have done in our position?" His voice was quiet, controlled. "Send them a letter saying, 'We'd like to go to war at your earliest convenience'?"

"I'd hardly call _war_ a solution to anyone's problems."

He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, leaning back. She did the same, reining in her frustration. Anger did no good in political settings—cold logic was much more effective in a debate. The air between them cooled, the tension dissipating. Her escort broke the silence first, his voice calm, polite. "I didn't expect the princess of the Northern Water Tribe to be so frustrating."

She paused, trying to call a retort to mind so she could deliver it in the same cool tone he'd used. But it occurred to her that she still didn't know his name or his station, and therefore couldn't make any oblique comments about how his upbringing had fostered such a confrontational attitude. "You haven't given me your name," she finally said. "I thought I should ask, just so I can better know the people of the country I'll be marrying into."

He studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, shoulders sinking as he turned his head once again toward the window. "I am Prince Yumao, third heir to the throne after my elder brother Yoru and his son, Omashu. My father, King Haran, currently rules the Earth Kingdom. I am engaged to Princess Meira Fuyu, daughter of Chief Narue of the Northern Water Tribe and Lady Zora of the Fire Nation."

All the air rushed out of her lungs. She felt as if she'd stepped over the edge of a cliff and was now locked in free-fall, plummeting toward the ground too quickly to react. It took a long moment for her to speak, and when she did, her voice shook. "You're . . . You're the prince?"

"That's correct."

_Oh my. _At once, she started dissecting everything she had said over the past few minutes, searching for any unforgivable faux pas. _I should have been more careful about what I said, _she thought. _I've denounced practically everything he's told me since we met!_

"You look a little pale," Yumao remarked. "Are you sure you don't want something to eat?"

_I have to marry this man, _she thought, staring blankly at him. Suddenly, the prospect of being engaged to a prince seemed all too real, as if every positive argument for marriage she'd ever heard had been a fairytale. "I . . . I think I just need a little air."

"Very well. Driver, roll down the window, please."

"Yes, sir." The back windows lowered with a mechanical hum, allowing fresh air to flow through the Satomobile. Meira leaned back, closing her eyes and letting the wind buffet her face.

"I should apologize," Yumao said, drawing her attention back to him. "It was wrong for me to keep my identity from you, but I wanted to see how you would react to me without any of the usual formalities."

She nodded, not trusting her voice. Now, knowing his royal status, she could see hints of it in his bearing. He'd spoken frankly, as if unconcerned about the weight of her title, and he hadn't seemed at all challenged during their debate. Even his clothes, made of such fine material, should have indicated a higher rank than she'd judged when she'd first seen him. He'd concealed his identity with ease and played her the way a skilled musician played a violin. _I will have to be very, very careful in the coming weeks, _she thought.

Once she'd recovered enough to respond, she said, "I think the first hurdle we need to get over involves being honest about ourselves around each other."

"That sounds fair." His face softened. "What would you like to know?"

She considered that for a moment. "What's your favorite color?"

Yumao stared at her for a beat, then threw his head back and laughed. "My favorite color? Really?"

"It's a simple question." _Safer to start with easier questions and move to more sensitive ones. _

"Very true. All right. I suppose I should say it's emerald green, since that's the Earth Kingdom's national color, but the truth is, my favorite color is gold."

"Favorite food?"

"Komodo chicken."

She raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that a Fire Nation food?"

"Isn't gold a Fire Nation color?" he countered. At her look, he leaned back, arms sprawling against the back of his booth. "As it happens, I like the Fire Nation. My sister was going to get married to a man from the Fire Nation, you know. Before he killed her, that is."

She did know—Sora had told her all about the event, told her his own father had been the nobleman accused of killing Lady Sil. _What a small world, _she thought, chilled. "I'm sorry."

Yumao shrugged, but couldn't quite manage a carefree smile. "It's been over a decade now. You'd think my father would have forgiven the Fire Nation, but time has only allowed his hatred to turn from an inferno to a glacier."

She frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Infernos burn hot and destroy great swaths of land, but they can be tamed by water, weather conditions, and a lack of fuel. Glaciers creep along gradually, crushing everything in their path, but are so dense they're practically unstoppable. Even with a team of waterbenders, it would take an enormous effort to melt a glacier. My father no longer wishes to burn the Fire Nation to ash—instead, he wants them under his control, at his mercy. He wants to be the glacier at the edge of their nation, always threatening to crush it, forcing people to obey his will or die under the force of it. He is not looking for destruction, but for domination."

Meira repressed a shiver. "That sounds awful."

Yumao shrugged. "He's always been like that. Kings don't destroy what they can use." His eyes darkened. "He'll win, you know. It won't be like Sozin's War, where the Fire Nation's superior technology allowed them to dominate and control us. This time, our capabilities are equal in that regard. And we have the numbers. If the new Fire Lady is smart, she'll surrender soon."

_Cousin Taemin, _she thought, heartsick. "Countries have won against worse odds before."

"True. But their victory, at this point, is unlikely." He lifted his head to look at her. "You have people you care about fighting for the Fire Nation, don't you?"

"I do." _Zelda. Taemin. Even my parents will be helping the Fire Nation in their own way. _

"I'm sorry to hear that," Yumao said. "I hope nothing bad comes of them."

_Why do you care? _she wondered, eyes stinging. _You don't know them. You don't care if they die. _

She felt a soft pressure on the back of her hand and looked down to see Yumao holding a cloth handkerchief toward her. She scanned his face, waiting for him to say something, but he was looking out the window, his gaze faraway. After a moment, she took the handkerchief and used it to wipe her eyes.

"How much longer until we reach the palace?" Yumao asked the driver.

"About ten minutes, Prince Yumao."

Meira looked out the window, startled. She'd been so absorbed in conversation that she'd hardly noticed the world passing by beyond her window. Looking out, she realized that she was well into the city, the sidewalks on either side of the street crowded with people of all ages and types. Many wore striking outfits, exposing so much skin that Meira wondered how they did not freeze. Others did the opposite, donning colorful costumes, jewelry, and adornments. _The people here are even more striking than the buildings! _"Wow," she whispered, then clamped a hand over her mouth. It was unseemly to show such inexperience.

"I can give you a tour of the city if you'd like," Yumao said. "I'm sure you'll want a tour of the palace first, though, since you'll be living there. We have to go see my father as well."

"That would be very kind of you," she said automatically. "But wouldn't you rather just send me out with an escort? You must have more important business now that there's a war going on."

"Considering we'll be married before the month has passed, I think I could make time for it." All amusement seeped out of his expression, making him look somber. For a time, he said nothing more, just stared out the window. Only after their Sato stopped did he seem to come back to himself a little. He held out a hand for her. "Come. I'll take you inside."

Hesitantly, she took his hand, allowing him to help her out of the Sato. As she got to her feet and looked around, her eyes widened. After the splendor of the city, she'd have thought her sense of wonder would have settled at its highest level. As she took in the palace, however, a wave of awe crashed over her. Four wings spread out from the rectangular building, each as long as the Whitewater Channel in the North Pole. Gardens lined the walls, overflowing with flowers of all varieties. The greenery, a novelty even after weeks away from home, still amazed her. She'd seen little enough of it in Republic City, and much of her passage to the Earth Kingdom had involved traveling over the sea, which she was already familiar with.

But, as with everything else in New Haran, it was the sheer _size _of the palace that made her gawk. _How can anyone live here? _she wondered._ Visitors must walk for hours trying to find their way around!_

"You'll get used to living here," Yumao said, as if reading her mind. She looked over and saw him staring far down the path, toward a set of magnificent emerald doors. As he started forward, he released her hand, and she looked down, blushing as she realized she'd forgotten to let him go after he'd helped her out of the seat. She hurried after him, eyes skimming over the gardens. The flowers made geometric patterns. She recognized the Earth Kingdom insignia, a square inscribed inside a circle like the Earth Kingdom currency, and various other shapes. Surprisingly, she saw flowers she'd seen in textbooks as being native to the Fire Nation. Fire lilies had been arranged in a flowing, hourglass shape, topped with pale pink blossoms surrounded by deep purple flowers. As the shapes and colors assembled in her mind, the figure they were meant to depict became clear—the flowers had been organized to look like a woman in a red dress. _Interesting, _she thought.

After over a minute of walking, they reached the doors. "Are these real emeralds?" she asked, eyes widening at the translucent green doors.

Yumao chuckled. "No. It's made of jennamite."

She stared at him. "But isn't jennamite . . ."

"Rock candy," he said with a smile.

"You're telling me that the front doors of the _royal palace _are made of _candy_." She studied his face, gauging his sincerity. "You must be joking."

"After I promised to be honest with you? Meira, I wouldn't dare." Grinning, he laid his hand on the door. "This particular specimen isn't well-suited for candy. Your teeth would shatter before the rock did. Rather, this is what jennamite candy looks like _before _it's mined for edible particles. It doesn't grow, and it doesn't taste sweet." He pushed the door open, nodding toward the doorman. "Would you please take our bags back to my chambers?" he asked. "I'm taking Lady Meira on a tour of the palace."

"Certainly, sir." The doorman grabbed a cart from the room next to the door and placed their bags on it. "Is there anything else I may do to serve you today?"

"No, thank you." Yumao stepped forward, then turned back to look at her. "If you thought the jennamite doors were interesting, wait until you see what else we have here."

_He seems so . . . carefree, _she thought. _But just a few minutes ago, he looked miserable at the thought of marrying me. What's he playing at? He let me believe he was no one, but he's a prince. He must an excellent manipulator. I need to be careful._

"This is the main foyer," he said, gesturing around the room. "It's got paintings and sculptures and stuff that makes the palace look impressive to visitors, but it's nothing special." He started up a flight of curving stairs, gesturing for her to follow. She trailed after him, admiring the art despite his assertion that it was nothing special. Perhaps _because _he'd claimed it was nothing special.

"The palace has three floors, not counting the towers, which have more," Yumao continued. "The throne room is on the second floor. That's where the king will be."

_"The king." He doesn't refer to him as "Father." _The distinction seemed important, but what did she know of Earth Kingdom customs? Perhaps such distance within the royal family was normal. "Do you see the king often?" she asked, fishing for information.

"Every evening at dinner, if he's not otherwise occupied. Sometimes I run into him if we're working on the same project, or we cross paths in the hall, but not often."

"So, you only see him once a day?"

"We're busy people. We both have duties to attend to, and I'm an adult, anyway. It would be strange if I _did _see him more often." The coolness in his response tipped her off to some omission. _Perhaps they don't get along. That could be useful. _

"So, how would you say your relationship with your father is?"

Yumao paused mid-step. Meira froze behind him, worried that she'd overstepped her bounds. After a long moment, Yumao turned to her, his expression grim. "I detest him."

Her eyes widened.

"We've never gotten along. I was a defiant child. Troublesome." His expression darkened. "But we're family, and family is in very short supply lately, for us."

_There's so much I don't know! _Meira thought, frustrated. _I'm missing too many dots—I can't make a picture with what I have. _"What do you mean?" she asked carefully.

Yumao cocked his head to the side, then quickly righted it, as if the movement had been nothing more than a twitch. "Well, you see, the royal family has a bit of a succession crisis right now."

"What kind of crisis?"

"There are only four of us. My father, my brother, my nephew, and myself. No cousins, no other siblings or uncles or aunts. Just the four of us. If we die, the royal family ceases to exist. That's why my father was so relieved to find a match for me. He . . . He expects you and I to start producing children as soon as possible."

She flinched as if someone had shattered a glass right next to her ear. _This isn't just a political marriage, _she thought. _I'm part of a breeding program! _She swayed slightly, lifting a hand to her forehead. "Oh." Her voice seemed to come from far away.

Yumao's eyes found hers. He approached, taking her hand. "I wish it didn't have to be this way. But my days of defying my father are over. Come." He tugged on her hand. "Let's go see the king."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes:<em>

_First, I'm sorry for the long wait on this chapter. I graduated from high school, but I'm working at a coffee shop now, so time is (and will probably always be) a rare commodity for me._

_Also, I need to explain a few things about the culture/geography bits in this chapter. The first is my choice to shorten the word _Satomobile _to _Sato. _The reason for this is because language is fluid—we don't call cars "automobiles" anymore, so I thought it made sense for the Avatar world to leave behind the clunky word _Satomobile _in exchange for a simpler word, especially since it's been 130 years, time-wise, since the events of _Legend of Korra_. I know I haven't referred to Satomobiles as Satos in previous chapters (I chalk that up to my discovery writing, but you could call it a lack of foresight, if you wish), but I will be referring to them, in general, as Satos for the remainder of the story (I might catch the earlier inconsistency in a later edit). As for the geography, I'm borrowing about half of the Avatar world's geography from canon, and I'm making up the other half as I go. There are a few reasons for this, the foremost being that it would be rather improbable for the geographical/geological features we saw in A:tLA and LoK to be the _only _geographical features in this universe, and frankly, when you get right down to it, it's not a whole lot of material to work with for a story of this scale. So I'm adding locations, cities, and such as necessary. I hope this hasn't confused anyone (if anyone has even noticed). I hope you've all enjoyed the chapter regardless of these changes, and thanks, as always, for reading and reviewing._


	29. Political Differences

_Author's Notes:_

_I'm sorry for the long wait between chapters. I don't really have a good excuse (at least none that would make up for a break this long), but I figure not many people are still following this story, so I'm guessing the long time between updates is going to go largely unnoticed. Anyway, I'm working on reducing the number of stories I have going at the moment, but it's a long process, and there are no guarantees that I'll get to the next chapter anytime soon, though I _will _finish this project eventually. Either way, I plan to do a read-through of this story over the next couple days in an attempt to get back into it, as well as re-familiarize myself with all the little details and plot threads I've already laid out. With luck, I can pen the next chapter in a more timely manner and get this story moving again._

* * *

><p>Chapter Twenty-Nine<p>

"The throne room is through here," Yumao said, standing in front of a pair of elegant stone doors. Princess Meira stood beside him, her expression blank, controlled. She hadn't spoken or smiled since he'd brought up the necessity of producing another heir for the Earth Kingdom. "The king spends four hours here each morning, and two hours more after dinner, maintaining the Earth Kingdom. I suspect his schedule will become less predictable now that he's devoting so much of his time and attention to the war."

Meira said nothing, only folded her hands in front of her. Yumao nodded to a Dai-Li agent, who then used his earthbending to open the doors. Voices floated out into the hallway, one stern, the other beseeching. _A king and his citizens, _he thought, stomach twisting with tension. Meira followed him into the room, moving with the grace of a dancer. _Or a master waterbender, _he thought. _If we walk too close to a mop bucket, she could probably kill me. _Best not to forget that, he decided. The war had already stirred up political unrest—the assassination attempt on Yoru at the gala proved that.

His father glanced up as he entered, but returned his attention to the nobleman begging at his feet. Curious, Yumao watched the scene unfold.

"Please, my king, another month. All I ask is another month, and the supplies will be at the city gates. I swear it."

"You have two weeks," King Haran said. "If you cannot bring me what I need in time, I will cancel our contract and find a more reliable manufacturer."

"But Your Grace, we have already manufactured everything you asked for—we just need to assemble it and send it to the city. Please, without this contract, my company could go bankrupt. I would lose all respect among my peers."

"That is not my concern."

Yumao saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Already on edge, he jumped before he realized Princess Meira had walked up to his side. Her eyes—a pale blue that bordered on gray—narrowed. "Shouldn't the king help that man?"

_So optimistic. _Yumao fidgeted. Optimistic people made him nervous. Unlike cynical people, whose self-serving tendencies made them dangerous but predictable, optimistic people were either blind to suffering or hopelessly addicted to seeking justice. "The king holds a great deal of power over the nobility," he said quietly. "If he wishes to deny one nobleman something, that is his prerogative."

"But why the rush?"

He hesitated, unsure how much to tell her, then decided that if she really wanted the information, she could find it easily enough without him. "That nobleman comes from up north, near the iron mines. The company he's worried about manufactures guns."

Meira paled. "But . . . But then why is he worried about going out of business? The war . . ."

"The thing is, he's not worried. He knows he'll be able to turn a profit over these next few months. I imagine the real reason he's here is to remind my father of his existence, and to acquire an advantage by setting a precedent for manipulating royal business contracts." _Self-serving and manipulative, _he thought. _But familiar. _

"But the king's not giving him any ground to stand on."

_At least she catches on quick__ly__. _The corner of his lip turned up before he could stop it, and he had to focus to make his face settle into a neutral mask. He didn't want his father to see him taking anything lightly. Not now. "The king does not bow before his subjects."

The discussion ended, and the nobleman walked away, shoulders stiff. Yumao tilted his head back, looking up at his father. The king gestured for him to approach. Yumao stepped forward, relieved that Meira followed him without a word. When he reached the middle of the room, he pressed his knuckles together and bowed. "Father," he said, voice neutral. "I present to you Princess Meira Fuyu of the Northern Water Tribe."

"Excellent." The king stood, stepping down from the dais to study Meira at eye-level. Yumao peeked through his bangs and watched her meet his gaze, bowing once before dipping into a graceful curtsy. He blinked in surprise. The subtle positioning of her hands, the way she slid her right leg back and inclined her head while tilting her chin up just slightly . . . It was a textbook Earth Kingdom style curtsy.

"It is an honor to meet you, Your Grace."

"We are honored to house such a distinguished guest. We hope that, in time, you will find yourself as much at home here as you would in your city of birth. Son, you may rise," he added, almost as an afterthought. Yumao stood, keeping his shoulders square, his face forward. "Princess Meira, I only wish we had met at a less stressful time. I would have attended to you sooner, but my last visitor's business related to the war we now face. I am sure you understand."

"I do. You must have been very busy in these past few weeks. It is a privilege to meet you in person."

The king chuckled. It was a pleasant laugh, soft and regal. Yumao had found that his father excelled at faking emotion when it benefited him. "I suppose we could speak to each other at length about the mutual honor it is for us to meet one another, but I think we'd best try to get something done before the day ends. Lin, if you would." He gestured to a woman in servant's robes. Yumao recognized her face, but he'd never paid her much attention. She didn't stand out. Few servants did.

"My lady, it would be my pleasure to serve as your guide and escort through the palace, if you would permit me."

Surprise lit up Meira's eyes, and for the first time, she looked uncertain. "I . . . was rather under the impression that Prince Yumao would be escorting me around the palace."

The king stiffened, then relaxed a moment later. "That is a splendid idea. Certainly, we should allow the two of you to spend some time together, given the immediacy of your engagement. Yumao, I trust you'll arrange a proper course for the princess."

He gulped, hearing the warning beneath the words: No ill behavior. "I will do my best."

"It's settled then. Lin will accompany you in case you require anything, but she will be discreet." The last words rang with command, and Lin obediently stepped into Yumao's shadow, her footsteps as soft as if she were walking over ash instead of stone. "You are dismissed," the king added.

Yumao bowed. Meira curtsied, again in Earth Kingdom fashion. He wondered how long she'd had to practice to get that curtsy right. Most Earth Kingdom noblewomen couldn't do it with such grace. Yumao extended a hand, palm up, and after a moment, she laced her fingers through his and allowed him to lead her out of the throne room.

He felt a lot better once the doors closed behind them, even with Lin standing in his shadow. He suspected his father had assigned her to him so he would have an extra set of eyes and ears studying the princess. And studying him.

"Where shall we go?" he asked Meira, pasting a smile onto his face. It reminded him of his father's easy laughter in the throne room, and he hoped Meira couldn't see the falseness in it.

"Anywhere is fine."

"All right. Let's start with the basics." He started walking, his hands still laced with hers. His hand felt too warm, and the point of contact made it impossible for him to forget that soon they would be married. A cold lump of dread settled in his stomach.

"This is the medical wing," he said, pausing at the end of one hallway and waving as several nurses nodded in his direction.

"Why don't they bow to you?"

"Hmm?"

"The nurses. They just nod when they look at you. I thought they would bow."

"I've asked the staff not to bow to me except under very formal conditions."

"Why?"

He paused, glancing at her. "I don't know, exactly. I guess I never thought I deserved it."

Meira frowned but said nothing more. He suspected she disapproved—she'd likely been subjected to such formalities all her life, so his insistence on avoiding them probably seemed odd to her. _Then again, she did mention interacting with commoners as she fulfilled her royal duties. All that bowing would get in the way, so there must have been a point where it ceased to occur so often. _

"Brother," a voice called. Yumao turned his head to see Yoru exiting one of the rooms in the infirmary. Yoru stopped as he saw Meira. "Is that your future wife? Because if she is, you're a lucky man—she's not half as ugly as mine."

_Oh, spirits. _"You should not speak of Lady Xing in such a way."

"Ah, she can't hear me." Yoru crossed the distance between them, surveying Meira as he might study a wild eel hound he wanted to buy. "You look lovely, but green isn't your color."

Meira looked down at her dress—a deep, forest green gown that managed to look both elegant and completely ill-suited for her. "I prefer blue and white," she said.

"Water tribe colors. I'd say you'd look better in red, but that's so . . . Fire Nation." Yoru smiled lazily. "Maybe bronze. She'd look good in bronze, don't you think, Yumao?"

"I wouldn't know."

"He has abhorrent taste in clothes," Yoru said to Meira, lowering his voice enough to give the illusion of a private conversation even though he was quite obviously within Yumao's earshot. "The serving girls have to pick through his wardrobe every night just to make sure he has proper attire for the morning. It must be tiresome."

"Yoru . . ."

"I am sure his taste isn't so awful," Meira said. "At the very least, he must approve or reject what his servants choose for him, and that requires some understanding of style and color choice."

Yoru's eyes widened. He grinned. "I like you already. Yumao, if you'd ever like to trade wives—"

"Don't even go there."

"Fine, fine." He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I won't. I _do _have to speak with Xing about the next gala. She made it sound incredibly important that I be by her side this time. What a bother." He rolled his eyes. Yumao said nothing. "Farewell, brother. I hope to see you married before I leave for war, but I wouldn't count on it now that I've recovered."

Meira cocked her head to the side, but Yoru disappeared around a corner before she spoke. "Recovered from what?"

"Someone tried to poison him at the last gala he attended," Yumao said, lowering his voice. "We know one of the servants was involved—someone had to give him the poisoned wine—but we haven't apprehended the assassin yet."

"So there's a killer walking through these halls right at this moment?"

He smiled. "Quite possibly, although we don't know for certain whether she's killed anyone else yet."

"She?"

"Yes, she. That's about as specific as we can get, based on what we remember." He sighed. "There are so many people to keep track of in this palace. The assassin may not have even been one of our servants. Or, if she was, then someone else, possibly someone within the palace, ordered her to poison my brother."

"That's awful."

"Does it frighten you?"

Meira paused, then nodded.

"Try not to worry about it," he told her, smiling. "More likely than not, whoever ordered the assassination attempt did so knowing that medical attention would arrive in time to save Yoru's life. It was meant to stir up trouble and intrigue, not to kill." _Probably. _

"You seem very . . . unconcerned." Meira frowned. "Does this sort off thing happen often?"

"Not often, no. But what else can be expected with war looming on the horizon?" He sighed, turning to the servant his father had assigned to follow them. "Lin, if you would send for tea. I'd like to spend a few minutes speaking with my . . . bride . . . in the Teardrop Garden."

"As you wish, my prince." Lin hurried away, her footsteps so light that he could hardly hear them.

When Lin was out of earshot, Yumao turned to Meira. "Come with me." He headed in the opposite direction he'd sent Lin, then took a sharp turn into one of the sitting rooms.

"Is this your way of evading your servants?" Meira asked.

"One way. When you're the fourth most important person in the Earth Kingdom, you learn how to slip away unseen. Besides, Lin will be able to find me if she needs to." Reaching the opposite end of the sitting room, he scanned a bookshelf, searching for the switch hidden on the second shelf. He found it behind an old history book and flipped it, stepping back as the bookshelf slid to the side. "Secret passages. Every good palace has them, and everyone who lives here knows about at least some of them."

Meira hesitated on the other side of the entrance, and Yumao beckoned her. "The door only stays open for a short time."

Eyebrows pinching together, she stepped across the threshold. No sooner than they met up in the passage did the bookshelf slide shut behind them, shrouding the tunnel in darkness. "Follow my voice," he whispered. "There will be lights farther down."

"Secret passages," Meira muttered behind him. "Naturally."

"This way." He shuffled down the passage, fingertips tracing the stone walls so he wouldn't bump into them. When the wall to his right suddenly disappeared, he turned. "A few more steps," he told Meira, "then take a right." He glanced over his shoulder, catching the faint light from the glow-crystals in the hallway beyond. When he heard the princess's footsteps echoing through the passage, he started moving toward the light. "Just keep walking. We're almost there."

"Almost where?" Her voice was loud in the silence, and wary.

"To the part of the tunnel where you can actually see where you're walking," he told her, squinting as the glow-crystals became more distinct. They walked about fifty meters before the ambient light became sufficient for him to see Meira's face. The glow-crystals gave off an eerie blue light—Earth Kingdom scientists had yet to develop crystals that could produce other colors, though altering the distribution of minerals in the crystal could change the shade of blue somewhat. But these passages had been carved early in New Haran's history, and though the city wasn't old by any means, Yumao doubted that anyone would bother placing new crystals in the secret tunnels, no matter how eerie the light.

"Wouldn't it have been more prudent for you to bring a lantern?" Meira asked, her voice stiff.

"Yes, but what's the fun in that?" His smile wilted when the princess's eyes narrowed. "Very well. We'll only walk through the well-lit tunnels from here on out."

"Good." She tilted her chin up, following him as he turned down another corridor. He'd had these passages memorized since childhood, and though he didn't use them as frequently as he once had, the familiarity had not deserted him. Meira had no trouble following him, although she did occasionally frown when the passage dimmed.

"This city was only built a few decades ago, meaning that these passages haven't been around very long. So why is the lighting so inconsistent?"

"The light—or lack thereof—is a sort of map," he told her. "I could explain in-depth what the different light levels mean, but for now, I think the fact that they are brightest near the center of the palace and grow dimmer as you get farther away will be sufficient for you to find your way around should something happen."

"Do you _expect _something to happen?"

_So many questions. _He sighed. "Not at the moment, no. But my brother was poisoned not long ago, and it wouldn't be so surprising for someone to target you, now that you're going to become part of the royal family. Nobles thrive on that sort of thing."

"That's awful!"

He turned, surprised by the intensity of her reaction. "What do you mean?"

"The idea of people _flourishing, _in any way, because of treachery and deceit. The idea that the nobility—who stand just one step below the royal family—could not only tolerate someone targeting the royal family, but actually _enjoy _it. How can a nation so great and powerful be made from such low, amoral nobles?"

Yumao stared at her, his eyebrows pulling together. "Is it . . . not like that where you come from?"

"Of course it isn't!" She flung her arms outward, as if physically throwing aside the thought. "In the North Pole, we are a community. We all work toward a common goal, whether it be survival or vitality."

"And what happens when someone goes against that goal?" he said, perhaps a little more sharply than he'd intended. "What do you do when someone high up in the hierarchy of your perfect country fails to uphold those goals and values that supposedly matter to your people?"

She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut, shoulders stiffening. Then, slowly, she said, "Those people, when they do appear, are banished from the tribe."

"Banished," he repeated flatly. "You just tell them to pack their things and paddle a canoe to whatever chunk of ice they might find beyond your borders."

"We do no such thing! They are given three days to gather their belongings, plus provisions to survive on until they can find safe harbor elsewhere. They are not merely cast out in a canoe." Her voice had weakened slightly, as if she'd realized that she'd only confirmed his statement, albeit with prettier words. "We are not so savage as to strike out at our own leaders," she continued, seeming to gather her resolve as she spoke. "If a leader shows themselves to be unfit for their position, the other leaders in the tribe convene and vote on whether he or she should be removed from that position, whether it be the place of chieftain or one of the council members."

He frowned. He'd studied water tribe politics, of course, which meant he was familiar with the structure of their government and their customs for choosing leaders. He also knew that, although the title of chief was mostly hereditary, it could be revoked if the current chief proved unsuited for the role. But it all seemed too idealistic. It relied on the ability of the other leaders to reach a consensus about the character of one of their own, while acknowledging that hereditary titles meant little if the person in question could not fulfill their duties. _If everyone in the world could be so trusting of their leaders, _he thought, _then it would be a beautiful system. _

"I concede that your political system is less cutthroat than mine," he said. "I can see how such a thing would work in a smaller setting, where every leader can be closely monitored, judged, and influenced by their peers. But the Earth Kingdom is too vast for such a thing to work here. That is why we have a royal family—one with kings that _cannot _be ousted from their position without abdicating the throne or dying. A monarch with absolute authority may be assassinated, but until that day, they have final say over the affairs of the kingdom. Without that unbreakable, central authority, the whole kingdom would shatter like a pot of clay dropped from a tower window.

"Just think," he went on, wandering down the tunnel, toward the southern end of the palace. "Just think what would happen if every lesser king in the Earth Kingdom were to have the authority to go to war," he said. "If, for example, Omashu's king decided to attack the Fire Nation, and Ba Sing Se's king wanted to continue trading with the Fire Nation. Rather than coming to a consensus, the two kings would argue until their disagreement became so fierce that they instead went to war with each other. An _Earth King—_which, mind you, is separate from a regional king, as Earth King Kuei and King Bumi of Omashu were separate in the days of Sozin's War—maintains the position of highest authority, and can therefore act as a third party and decide what the best course of action is at a given time. An Earth King unifies the nation, and if he is seen as having anything less than absolute control over his reign . . ." Yumao shook his head. "You can see why it must be _solely _a hereditary title. Merit and morality changes from person to person, and from situation to situation, but a position based on one's bloodline is nearly irrevocable. And there are times, whether you want to accept it or not, when having _a _leader takes precedence over having a _good _leader."

Meira's eyes narrowed. "I think you're wrong," she said, her eyes becoming as cold as the city she'd been born into. "Giving someone absolute authority will result in a tyrant for a leader, even if they've been groomed for that position since birth. But if a leader knows their title can be taken away, they will remember that it is their duty to do what is right for their people, even at their own expense."

Yumao felt the back of his neck flush with anger. "Did you just call me a tyrant in the making?"

"I did," she replied sharply. "And if you cannot see how easily you would become one, then I fear for the future of this kingdom _and_ the rest of the world." She turned away. "Take me back to the surface. I would prefer to have Lin guide me through the palace."

The insult stung. Yumao wanted to rebel against it, to prove in some way that he was no tyrant, that he would never become one, even if he did take the throne. But he had too long nurtured his habit of bowing his head when faced with a challenge, and he found himself doing the same now. "There's a door at the end of this corridor that leads into another sitting room," he said, taking the lead. "I'll send a servant to fetch Lin for you."

* * *

><p>"You'll want to make the rudder smaller," Yuuto said, gesturing to the scaled-down airship. "If you make any part of the airship too bulky, it won't fly evenly."<p>

"Will the engines be able to compensate?" asked one of the engineers.

"For the rudder?" Yuuto asked. "Of course. By changing the output of the engines, you can steer the craft without a rudder." _Spirits, the Fire Nation practically invented airships. How could they not see something so obvious?_

"Why even _have _a rudder, then?"

"_Because_," Yuuto said, frustration leaking into his voice. Firebenders. Honestly. "Because in the event that the airship is required to perform aerial feats above and beyond the specifications of normal passenger aircraft—which it _will _be, if it's going up against Earth Kingdom airships—you need the rudder in order to make sharper turns."

The engineers muttered in voices too low for him to hear. After a moment, Chief Engineer Alza glanced up at him. "That's all we need from you today," she said curtly. "Go back to your quarters."

_Are all Fire Nation people this bossy? _he wondered, forehead wrinkling. Spirits, the queen—the _Fire Lady, _he corrected himself—had personally given him the ultimatum that had landed him here: assist the engineers with building better military airships or be executed for espionage.

At least she'd offered him full citizenship if he complied. Once he proved himself a reliable engineer, he'd be granted a new name and all the appropriate documentation to make him a citizen of the Fire Nation. Which, in a way, would mean he wouldn't technically be a traitor to the Earth Kingdom, since his new identity would make it so he'd never been a citizen there. "Aside from the details about never seeing my family or home again, this is turning out great," he muttered, allowing the soldiers Fire Lady Taemin had tasked with watching him escort him back to his chambers. They both looked over at his mutterings, but neither made any comment.

He got the sense that they didn't like him all that much. Which was only logical, since his people had very recently bombed the Fire Nation. Of course, by helping the Fire Nation build military airships, Yuuto was helping them return the favor, so really_, _these guards ought to be happier with him.

Or maybe he'd just spent a solid twelve hours with a bunch of squabbling engineers who looked at him like he was some stupid kid, and the exhaustion was making him illogical.

They reached his temporary chambers—the finely furnished rooms where he'd been more or less imprisoned before the Fire Lady had made him choose between being a traitor and being dead. "Thanks," he murmured to the guards, hoping that a little gratitude would ease their disdain for them. But they just looked at him, faces concealed by their plated helmets, their eyes invisible through their tinted visors._Well, at least they haven't killed me, _he thought, opening the door.

The sheets had been stripped off his bed and burned in the fireplace, leaving behind only a few scraps of embroidered fabric and a pitifully small pile of ashes. His pillows had been slashed with what he assumed to be the tip of a spear, then tossed on the floor so the stuffing spilled out of them. The lamp on his bedside table lay in shards next to the pillows. A glance into the bathroom revealed that the mirror had been shattered, the towels slashed by the same blades that had destroyed the pillows.

Yuuto sighed, glancing back at the soldiers standing in the doorway. "I don't suppose either of you would know anything about this?"

Neither said a word.

"Wonderful." He sat down on the edge of the bed, glad that no one had thought to slash the mattress while they were destroying everything else. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid all this effort is wasted. I am _far _too tired to be bothered by the lack of proper sheets, and those pillows were too slippery anyway." His eyes flickered back to the soldiers, searching for some reaction, some involuntary twitch. Their stillness, if anything, seemed more incriminating. "I must say, if this is a hate crime, it's much tamer than I'd have expected. If this is the worst the Earth Kingdom has to fear from the Fire Nation, it's no wonder the Earth King decided to attack."

"You take that back!" one of the guards snarled, raising his spear. The temperature shot up ten degrees in a second. _At least one of them is a firebender, _Yuuto thought. _That could be useful to know. _

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice dripping with insincerity. "I didn't mean to criticize your attempts at ransacking my room. I'm sure that if you'd had more time, you'd have come up with something much more threatening than some burnt bedsheets and broken glass."

Neither of them denied their role in destroying his chambers, which either meant they were too dull to realize they'd been accused of such—not likely, since any soldier good enough to be tasked with guarding the palace would be intelligent enough to realize they were being accused—or they were proud of what they'd done here. _Well, at least I'm not dead, _Yuuto thought, sitting on the edge of the bed and stripping off his boots.

"He's just some dirt-faced traitor. Forget him," said one of the soldiers. A female soldier, which surprised him. It was difficult to tell when they were wearing armor, and neither of them had actually spoken to him before now. _What a strange country this is, _he thought. _A military structure that puts men and women together in teams instead of separating them into different divisions. _

It hadn't been like that in the Earth Kingdom. There, female soldiers were a rarity, and typically came from the more liberal splinter-kingdoms like Omashu or the Si-Wong Desert, where gender roles were less strictly enforced. Yuuto didn't have anything against women being soldiers, but it still struck him as odd that the Fire Nation had a fully integrated military. _That's one area where the Fire Nation might actually be superior to the Earth Kingdom, _he thought, frowning to himself. Was it wrong to think that the Fire Nation might be a better place, in some ways, than the Earth Kingdom? True, he'd soon have citizenship here, but he'd only chosen to help the Fire Nation under threat of death. Surely it was wrong to wish his own country could be more like this one while the two were at war.

Wasn't it?

_It doesn't matter, _he told himself. _The only thing you should be worried about is keeping yourself alive. _He looked over his destroyed bedroom, thought about the viciousness of the attack. The Fire Nation was the enemy. They were barbarians. He had to remember that.

He feared what would happen if he forgot.


End file.
